Bloodlines
by draelynn
Summary: Future AU with strong nod to canon The Xmen reunited under one roof. An old adversary emerges in desperate need of help. Chapter 10: some old friends should just stay in the past... Lots of Xmen, OC's.
1. Wanderers In The Night

Disclaimer: Marvel characters are not mine. All others are. So there.

Notes: This is my first time foray into fangirl fiction. Be kind, be cruel, be whatever you need to be, but gimme some feedback. I have a special place in my heart for nitpickers, so pick away! This is the beginning of what seems to be sizing upasan epic in my head. Lots of Xmen, in one place, at the same time, is solely for my sick need to explore their relationships. I also have a soft spot for Marvel characters that the fans hated. I truly believe there are no bad characters, just bad writers. And I very well may be one of them! You've been warned.

Thanks: To my beta - SpaniardX - for being my first victim. Look... no ellipsis'!

The halls of the Xavier Institute were quiet. The nightly security routine was just coming online. The extensive security measures were to ensure that the school, and it's mutant occupants, remained safe and secure from an increasingly intolerant, and predictably, hostile world. Wolverine scanned the security console making sure the cameras were all operational, alert status for tonight's security team encoded, as well as motion sensors, security gates, anti terror detainment units ...There was more hardware than ever before.

_Gimme a good pack of guard dogs any day_.

He longed for simpler times, times when his nose and his own two feet were all the security measures they needed. Logan finished the security system initiation, zipped up the remainder of his uniform and headed upstairs to begin his patrol. Logan followed his usual route. Case the first floor, all the common rooms; kitchen, dining room, media room, library, game room, den. Up the east stairs to the senior student dormitories. A few kids up playing video games, a few studying for upcoming midterms, girls giggling in the dark about the cute new kid from Nebraska. Up to the third floor, all quiet, suspiciously so. Strong pungent scent wafting down the hall, nag champa incense, alot of it and the undertones of...

_Damn that Gutherie_.

Logan stopped outside the last door on the left. He didn't even have to put his ear to the wood to hear someone hacking up a lung followed shortly thereafter by an all too familiar scent lacing the hazy incense stench. A heavy shoulder on the door and he was in the room. He was met by two huge pairs of deer-in-the-headlights eyes.

"Logan...I...I.."

"Dammit, Jay, This is the third time this month. Hand it over. All of it. Now. And you. I'm disappointed, Ethan" Logan turned a hard stare at Jay's blond haired accomplice, the new kid from Nebraska.

"Ya only been here two weeks and ya already found trouble over here." He motioned to Jay with a jerk of his head, who clambered across his bed, digging through his nightstand. He tossed a bag in Logan's direction and clambered to hand over his bowl with a weak smile.

"I'm sorry, Logan. It's just midterms and I'm doing shitty in math and..." his red brown wings nervously rustled as his eyes scanned the floor.

"Can it, Jay. This is yer third strike, kiddo. Ya know what that means."

"Logan, please... don't tell Sam, please don't do that to me." Jay was clutching his arm, begging for mercy. Sam wouldn't be kind enough to kill him. No. He'd humiliate him in front of his friends, drag him to Cyclops for the _I'm so disappointed _speech_'_, then to Beast for the '_Do you know how harmful marijuana is' _speech and then, most horrifying of all, he'd tell mom. And then Paige. "Just kill me... please... just kill me now."

Logan tried hard to suppress a smile and a laugh, but both just sputtered out anyway. "Jay, I swear." His voice trailed off as he shoved the kid's stash into his back pocket. Adding to the growing collection he'd confiscated. _Hayseed's always got the best weed. _"Both 'a ya are gonna be doin' detention time, with me, all next week. If I hear so much as a peep outta either of ya about it, yer both gonna wish I did kill ya."

"Thank you, Logan." Both boys groveled in unison as Logan left with a slam of the door.

Well, everything as usual in the dorms. Take the south stairwell back downstairs. Cut across the commons to the west wing. Chuck's study, Scott's office, Emma's office, classrooms, lavatories. The new mansion just didn't have the same feel the old ones did. Built under Emma and Scott's careful instruction the halls of this, yet again, resurrected house felt sterile and empty despite being currently occupied by over thirty senior students and three full teams of X-men. Thank God the younger students had separate dormitories. Babysitting the seniors was already bad enough. Why did Emma insist on so many students if she only found a handful of them useful anyway?

_Putting them in harms way, bringing them to this house_.

Up the west stairs to the team wings. The women's floor was quiet except for Kitty, up at her computer, typing away as usual. Probably grading papers. She grew up so fast, and was so far away for what seemed like a lifetime. She was the most normal of anyone in this institution. That's what it felt like around here. An institution. Sterile, empty, heartless. The heart of this house died over a year ago. Except for a few people in it, this house could crumble to the ground again and he wouldn't miss it.

Up to the second floor, men's department. Gambit just in, surprisingly early for him, with the scent of expensive bourbon and cheap flowery perfume lingering outside his door. Kid always gets lucky. His luck and his curse. The kid was as miserable here as him lately, but neither seem able to stay away. Misery loves company. The hiss of the shower filters into the hallway as Remy attempts to wash away the stench of yet another pointlessly debauched evening.

Up to the third floor. The Professor's suite. Warren and Paige's suite. Scott and Emma's suite.

_Emma_. That would never cease to grate on his nerves. _Of all the women to get Scott's nuts in bunch. He chose Emma over. No. _He would not allow himself to even think her name. He swallows the thought hard before it has a chance to come clawing its way to the surface again. Before her beautiful face burns into his every waking thought again. _Too many empty rooms up here. _

Suites are for guests and couples. They were short on both these days. Too many ghosts in these halls. Too many memories. Back downstairs to the control room.

It's a beautiful night, at least what he can see of it through the monitors. It's been quiet for weeks. The monitor's pale blue glow blinks erratically as each camera makes its sweep and switches to the next remote in line. Logan throws his big, booted feet up on the console as the chair creaks in protest under his weighty adamantium frame. _Maybe it's time to move on. _Being a posterboy for friendly, helpful mutants everywhere just isn't sitting well in his gut. The only astonishing thing he's done is to stay here for far too long.

His gaze is far off, casing a new bar in Madripoor, or maybe, finally, settling down in that nice tract of land in the Yukon he bought all those years ago.

**_Perimeter breach, sector alpha. _**The air went red with lights flashing, alarms blaring. Logan nearly fell off his chair as he jumped to his feet to assess the situation.

He scanned the monitors wildly, muttering "Sector alpha. Sector alpha. Why can't this bleedin' thing just say front gate!" He finally switched to the appropriate bank of cameras. "Identify three targets in sector alpha" he ordered as the camera zoomed in on the intruders.

**_Unknown mutant targets. Main gate security disabled at source. _**Crap. He was getting lazy. He should have caught site of them as they approached the gate.

_A good bunch of guard dogs woulda... _

"Wolverine, what's the situation?" Cyclops broke through over the com. He was already moving as the security gates began closing off the student dorms. The alarms in the appropriate team rooms were blaring as Wolverine's voice broke through the cacophony.

"We got three uninvited guests through the front gate". Wolverine headed for the elevator, joined quickly by a startled Beast, who had recently taken up permanent residence in his lab. "And I thought it was gonna be a borin' night." Logan quipped as he smirked at the disheveled Dr. McCoy. Blue fur was jutting in every direction, his pants barely clinging to his hips as he leap through the door.

_Good to see Big Blue is getting some decent sleep for a change. _

"Why is it our many detractors cannot wait until a reasonable hour to come calling, uninvited no less?" Hank bemoaned as he finished buckling his pants.

They charged through the hallways to be joined by Cyclops, Iceman, Colossus, Rogue, Kitty, Nightcrawler, and one dripping wet Gambit still trying to force a wet foot into his Nikes.

"This is a bit of overkill don't ya think? There's only three of 'em." Logan paused, almost insulted. Kitty could handle this by herself. Jubes could probably take care of this by herself.

"We're not taking chances on school grounds. Rogue take point." Scott was more disturbed than usual by this intrusion. Logan could smell the adrenaline rush rolling off him. "Two teams, Kitty, Kurt, Remy, Pete east. Rest of us west. Move fast! Go!" the X-men spilled out the front door and sprinted for the front gate.

"Cyke, I see 'em. They're takin' their good ol time. Looks like they're alone. They're waltzin' right up the front drive." Rogue reported over the com.

"We'll intercept. Recon Greymalkan and make sure they're alone." Cyclops directed.

The two teams closed ranks with practiced efficiency. Just inside the treeline they watched as the three intruders walked, somewhat skittishly, up the drive. Wolverine stayed a few paces ahead. He froze in place as the cool evening breeze wafted their scent his way.

"They're scared. Real scared," Wolverine barely whispered back to his team leader. A loud **_bamf_**, a cloud of sulfurous smoke, and the lead intruder was on the ground, Nightcrawler neatly sitting in the middle of his chest. The two remaining intruders stumbled backwards in shock as Wolverine and Gambit appeared, seemingly out of nowhere, on either side of them. They were quickly joined by the rest of their teammates.

"You haf got some explaining to do, mein freund." Kurt's tail twitched excitedly, daring his captive to make a move.

"Ya, bub. Spill it. Before I slice it out of ya." Wolverine growled low as he held up his gloved hand and slowly extended his claws up in front of the second intruders face. _These kid's are practically pissing their pants. _He wanted the chance to play with them before Scott ruined his fun.

Gambit chuckled and shook his head. He slid his bo staff under the third intruders chin forcing his head back. "You got Gambit outta da shower fo' dis? Go head, gut 'em Wolverine so we all can get back ta' bed." Wolverine and Gambit passed a mischievous look between them then to Nightcrawler.

"And I just had this uniform cleaned... pity." Nightcrawler tugged at his collar as he flashed his pearly white fangs for emphasis.

"Alright, that's enough." Cyclops intervened, but instead of anger, or the characteristic authoritative tone he usually took, he seemed somewhat amused. "What, exactly, are you three doing? Trying to commit suicide by X-men?"

Wolverine sputtered out a chuckle, quickly trying to cover it with a cough. Wolverine was still trying to figure out how to react to Cyclops' new attitude adjustment. He had been uptight for so long that the occasional wise cracks were taking him by surprise. Often. And he was loathe to admit he might actually like this new Cyke.

"But, you're X-men. Please, you have to help us," the captive under Nightcrawler pleaded. They were boys, no more than sixteen or seventeen, and wore some cyberpunk chic clothes that looked like they'd seen better days. They were dirty and, by the smell, hadn't showered in days. The dark haired boy under Kurt had some faded red markings on his face and his tongue piercing clicked against his teeth as he spoke. "Domina sent us. She said you would help."

Gambit rolled his eyes wide. "T'ought dey looked familiar. Des chile' be Neo." Gambit took a closer look at Kurt's captive, noting the faded red paint on his face. "Dis one War Clan. Only good at runnin' dey mout's an bein' annoyin'."

"Alot like you then, huh, sugah?" Rogue gently touched down just behind the Cajun. The smirk on her face, and the glare in her eye, clearly expressing a desire to provoke the Cajun into yet another war of words. "The lane's clear, boss."

"Thanks, Rogue." Cyclops summoned his annoyed voice. He sincerely wanted to avoid, yet another petty, squabble. Especially in front of a potential enemy. It looked so unprofessional.

"Yeah, t'anks Rogue." Gambit barely bit back his sarcasm, dearly wishing to just let loose and shut her up once and for all.

"Domina sent ya'? What, as bait? That stuck up bitch can't even do her own dirty work any more?" Wolverine was practically spitting in the terrified kid's face.

"No! We... we might be all that's left. You have to help us. Please." The kids were exhausted and terrified. Cyclops glanced in Wolverine's direction. Wolverine gave him a knowing nod. The kids were telling the truth or, at least what they believed it to be.

The Neo War Clan was known for many things. Overconfidence. Brutality. Close minded determination. Arrogance. But fear wasn't usually in their vocabulary. They weren't known for much of anything since their enforced defection to Genosha. But that was a long time ago. No one had heard anything from them since then.

"Beast, if you could prepare a room for our guests, I think they will be spending the night. Colossus, Iceman if you would accompany them." Cyclops looked around at his team. They genuinely looked disappointed that there was not going to be a fight. "The rest of you in the war room in ten. It will be quick."

Nightcrawler offered a hand to his captive to help him off the ground. The young man gave him a look of thinly veiled disgust, rolled to his side and pushed himself up.

"No, thank you." The response came out sounding like a vulgarity.

"Mama sure didn't teach these boy's any manners." Rogue was actually shocked at such blatant disrespect.

"Non, but she sure teach dem how to be bigots." Gambit retorted. The team all glanced back at the young men. It was bad enough that most of the world still feared and distrusted mutants. Mutants hating other mutants was still a pill too bitter to swallow.

"Dey real good at it, too." Gambit put a hand on the back of his captive and gave him a small shove towards Colossus.

The boy looked back at him with a scowl. "Not all mutants are created equal you know. "His words were intended to cut deep.

"Guess not, if de high 'n mighty Neo are crawlin' to us lowly X-men for help." Gambit strode past the captives without a glance.

"So, who gets the repair bill for the front gate, huh, boys?" Iceman draped his arms over two of the boys shoulders. As usual, he interjected a joke to lighten the mood even though their captives were the only ones taking this small encounter seriously. The boys looked between each other nervously. "Lighten up guys, we won't make you pay for it," he paused dramatically, glancing between the boys with an arched eyebrow, "with money." The joke sounded more menacing than intended, but Bobby was enjoying watching them squirm uncomfortably.

"You made your point, Iceman." Colossus gave his teammate a small nudge that sent him stumbling a few steps ahead.

"Oh, I'm just getting started big guy. Just getting started."

_Emma, did you hear all of that? _Cyclops had left his psychic link with Emma open for the encounter, giving her all the details first hand. _Can you tell if these kids are dangerous? _

_I don't believe they are but still, no chances. Have Hank collar them before locking them down. We'll talk to them in the morning_. Emma Frost was rattled by this little intrusion more than she cared to admit. Scott picked it up from her just as the alarms went off, but she locked the feeling down tight before he even left their bed.

Terrified kids coming to the X-men for help was nothing new or unusual. The Neo were no longer any kind of threat. _Why am I so agitated? _She resigned herself to coaxing that answer out of their guests. In the morning. She snuggled back into her pillow. Scott would be back soon enough to reassure her.

Wolverine rifled around in his back pocket, past the bag, past the bowl and pulled out a cigar. At least he could savor it on the walk back to the War Room. He lit it, looked to the sky, and inhaled deeply, savoring the taste, the burn at the back of his throat. He exhaled a plume of smoke skyward. A slow, creeping feeling worked its way into the hackles at the back of his neck.

_Something's brewing. _A single corner of his lip curled into a crooked smirk. Finally, something to do.

Scott sat patiently at the conference table, fingers steepled and deep in thought as he waited for the team to arrive. He could hear their guests loudly complaining from down the hall about 'being collared like dogs'. A deep growl from Beast quickly convinced them that it was in their best interest. The rest of the team filtered into the room. As usual, Logan was pulling up the rear.

"I just wanted to say thanks, and well done. Response time was perfect. It was smooth and, nearly flawless." He looked up at them. They could all see the 'but...' coming. Cyclops just shook his head. " I'm not going to nitpick. Gambit, you've had one on one experience with these clowns so I'd like you to observe when Emma and I question them in the morning. That should be around 10:30, between our classes. Everyone else, thanks." He looked up at them with his best 'class dismissed' face. They took the hint.

"Rogue, Gambit, can I have a word with you?" Rogue stood near the door, arms crossed, hip cocked to the side, obviously impatient. Gambit resigned himself to a chair with his back to her.

"Listen you two, I know things are tense between you but you have got to tone it down." Scott tried to summon his best understanding tone of voice but Rogue cut in.

"Butt out, Scott. It ain't none o' your business. And I don't take kindly to being talked to like a child." She glared at the back of the chair Gambit occupied, a deep scowl on her face.

"Den stop actin' like one, chere." Gambit chimed in flatly, a small smirk on his face, knowing exactly what he had just provoked.

"You goddamn piece of swamp trash!" She was looking to get into a fight and Remy had just obliged her. "I swear to God, you need to be knocked down off that high horse you bein' ridin' on and I'm gonna be..! "

"That's _enough_!" Scott roared over her tirade. "This is exactly what I'm talking about. I want this stupid shit to end, here and now!" He pounded his fist on the table, face starting to flush red with his growing anger. "You won't fight in front of the students, you won't fight in front of your teammates and I'm reassigning you to separate teams! I don't care what happened between you this time. I could care less! The team is at the top of it's game and I won't have your grade school bullshit pull it down. Am I clear?" He glared between the two of them.

"Clear as crystal, Cyke." Gambit folded his arms to his chest, more relieved than anything else. He needed a way to shut her down. So many times he just wanted to walk away, but his battered ego demanded that he retain some dignity. That tiny, nearly dead, piece of him wanted to have the last word this one time. Scott had just given him and his ego an easy way out. Rogue just glared at the ceiling, around the room, anywhere except at her irate team leader.

Remy's little trip to Madripoor, two months ago, had been the absolute last straw. It was bad enough he was staying at the Princess Bar but, four girls? The thought bitterly churned in her stomach, even now.

Cyclops rephrased his question, voice tight and direct. "Rogue, am I clear?"

"Whatever you want. Are we done?" Rogue replied, not bothering to mask her annoyance. Cyclops nodded an affirmative. She wheeled around and stormed down the hall.


	2. Not So Strange Brew

Disclaimer: Marvel characters are not mine.

Notes: Trying out a storytelling style in this chapter. Let me know how you like it, hate it, worship it, detest it with your very soul.

* * *

The sun broke over the horizon with a soft, amber glow that quickly grew into a bright, clear Spring day. The school was buzzing with activity. Students rushing to their first classes. Teachers finishing breakfast, gathering their lesson plans for another day. A maintenance crew working steadily on the frozen security gate from last night's incident. The only indication that this was not like every other school beginning a typical busy day.

Logan silently observed the daily rush from the staff's kitchen doorway. He had finished his shift on security detail an hour before and just wanted to wind down before heading to bed for a few hours' rest.

"Morning, Wolvie." Kitty was rushing and looking a bit bedraggled.

"Morning, KitKat." Logan instantly caught the unamused glare in her eye. "Whoa, sorry, _Ms. _Pryde. Rough night?"

She dropped books and papers in a haphazard pile onto the counter, swiped a mug from the drain board. As she poured cream into the cup, she raised the coffee pot to her nose. With a sniff and a sneer, she added several spoons of sugar as well.

"It's bad enough I was grading papers all night. Now I need to cover Hank's Quantum Theory class because of our 'guests'." She stirred the strong brew planted a quick peck on his cheek and rushed out the door. "I'll see you later, Wolvie."

Bobby and Pete were heading for the kitchen, obviously engrossed in conversation.

"...so he built a transformer out of a paperclip, a wad of chewing gum and then spliced the whole thing together with his bootlace." Bobby was gesticulating wildly, trying to drive his point home to an unimpressed Pete.

"But that is not physically possible. Chewing gum is not conductive..." The pair squeezed past Logan and into the kitchen. "Good morning, Logan."

"Pete. Bobby." he nodded in response. Bobby waved vaguely in Logan's direction, already rooting around in the fridge.

"You're just not getting the point, Pete. This is MacGuyver." He emerged from the fridge brandishing the last two cans of Mountain Dew he had hid in the back.

"Dat is the point. Television doesn't have a point." Pete argued. He poured himself a huge cup of coffee, then added milk and a scant few spoons of sugar. "...and this MacGuyver isn't even vaguely based in reality. Why would you teach children with such exaggerations and lies?" He took a big swig of coffee and swallowed noisily.

"It's not for children, it's for adults. Well, I mean, it's for adults, too. It's just pure, escapist fantasy. It was a great show." Bobby knocked back half of one soda while rooting in the cabinets for a pack of Twinkies. _Damn you, Hank_, it looked like he'd have to settle for Ho Ho's. The two wandered back out into the hallway, arguing as they went. "TV is all about kicking back, Pete. You're gonna watch it with me. It's just cool stuff. You'll see what I'm talking about..." They disappeared around the corner.

"I liked MacGuyver." Logan mumbled to himself.

Rogue, Rachel and Ororo headed for the kitchen talking quietly amongst themselves.

"...don't you worry that pretty little head of yours about it, Rach. Men, invariably, are not to be trusted. Believe you me, y'all betta off without him. It's a good thing you found out so early." Rogue counselled a down-in-the-dumps Marvel Girl.

"Good Morning, Logan" they chimed almost in unison.

"Sure is when three such beautiful ladies are happy to see me this early in the mornin'." Logan smiled in response. He felt he had to redeem the male half of the species from whatever had befallen Rachel somehow. Ororo shot him a grateful glance, fully reading his intention. Rogue was on a rant, and Ro wanted him to know his small gesture did not go unnoticed. She poured herself a small glass of pineapple juice. Rachel sniffed at the second pot of coffee suspiciously as two mugs floated down from the highest shelf courtesy of her telekinesis while Rogue rooted around in the fridge and triumphantly pulled out a carton of hazelnut flavored creamer from the bottom shelf.

Rogue filled a third of her cup with the creamer and topped it off with fresh coffee. Rachel poured the remaining coffee from the first pot into her cup, poured in a bit of creamer then finished it off with coffee from the second pot.

Rogue grabbed an orange from the fruit bowl and gave it a test squeeze. Dissatisfied, she dropped it and repeated the procedure until she found one satisfactory. "You know, Rach, a pretty lil' redhead like you won't have any trouble finding a great guy. Me n' you'll go lookin' this weekend." She tossed her orange in the air, catching it deftly, as the three wandered off, heading for Ororo's loft to continue their girl talk. Moments later, Remy dragged himself towards the kitchen.

"Mornin', Logan." he mumbled as he beelined for the coffee pot.

"Didn't sleep?"

It was obvious the Cajun was dog tired. Decked out in baggy sweats and a wife beater, the usually fashionable thief was beyond caring how he looked.

"Non. If I fell asleep, I'd never get up for dat 10:30 meetin' downstairs wit Cyke." Remy groped blindly on the top shelf for a mug. Finally finding one, he poured himself a cup of coffee and sat at the counter, sipping at the bitter, black brew. Logan joined him.

"Ya know, Gumbo, you don't have to go out every night. You'd look alot better if ya let yourself get some sleep once in awhile." Logan liked poking fun with Remy. It was meant as jest but underneath the jovial tone was actual concern for how the kid was treating himself lately.

"Time enough to sleep when I'm dead, Logan. Trust me, I know." Remy blankly stared into his mug then closed his eyes and took a long, noisy sip of the steaming liquid. Logan bristled at the morose response, but thought better of confronting him on it. Remy was just thinking out loud, something that he only seemed to do around him and Ro. He was actually glad the kid trusted him enough to let go like this. And lately, the kid was letting go around him quite a bit. Things with Rogue had deteriorated into a spiteful, vengeful thing, a sad spectre of the relationship they worked so hard and long to salvage. The constant sniping at each other evidenced that neither knew how to let go. How to finally admit that their love had died long ago and that they failed. Deep down, he knew that Remy just did not have the strength to win this fight. Not anymore.

Logan was about to launch into his best '_buck up it'll get better' _speech when Gambit broke the silence.

" 'Sides, dere be way too many lovely ladies in need of my attention, non?" Remy's red/black eyes bounced from dull to glittering in a nanosecond with the thought. His trademark smirk played across his face as he sipped again at his coffee.

_Good for you kid. _Though this 'kid' was closer to thirty than to his teens, he had lived through more than most people could even imagine. Yet, even at his lowest, Remy always seemed to be fighting to stay in the game, to return to his former, carefree self. He had a bad of habit of using sex like most people used bandaids. But there were much worse ways to mend ones wounds, and the kid seemed pretty resistant to all the common diseases so Logan couldn't really see the harm in his all too frequent escapades.

" Why don't you save a few for the rest of us, huh, Gumbo?" Logan shot back with a grin. Remy was caught off guard and laughed, a wide smile crossing his lips.

"Don' you worry, mon ami. I find a special one, just for you." He grabbed his mug, again sipping, trying to force the caffeine into his veins a bit faster. He stood and headed for his room. " I need to make m'self more presentable for our guests, non." he said pulling at his shirt. As he left the room he paused, "T'anks, Logan."

"Anytime, kid."


	3. This Can't Be Good

Disclaimer: Marvel characters are not mine. All others are.

* * *

Gambit threw on a pair of jeans and a silk button down shirt. He looked in the mirror. _Maybe Logan was right_. He looked awful. He ran his hands through is hair once, twice, sighed in defeat and left to make his 10:30 appointment downstairs.

He encountered the Professor at the elevator and saw they were obviously heading in the same direction. After a few silent, tense seconds, Remy seriously considered making a break for the stairs.

_Why does he make me so nervous? _He flashed the Professor a nervous little smile as the elevator arrived with a swoosh of the doors and motioned for the Professor to enter first, side stepped the chair to enter the car himself.

"I haven't seen much of you lately, Remy. How have you been?"

_Great, he's making polite conversation_.

Everyone had been on edge since the Professor's unexpected return a few weeks ago and Gambit was at the top of that list. No one had the heart to ask their mentor what had befallen him and returned him to his wheelchair. Scott and Emma argued bitterly over his return. Only Emma, Kitty and Hank seemed comfortable around him. The Professor was taking it all in his normal cheerful stride. And it was unnerving.

"Fine, Professor, jus' fine. You lookin' good. What you been doin' wit yourself, now dat you're a man of leisure?"

Charles knew Gambit had always been uneasy with him. While he always, genuinely, liked the boy, he never took it upon himself to get to know him better. He always appreciated the mysterious young man's friendly, yet distant, manner -- like the one he was using now -- and always regretted how horribly he failed him at the point when he needed an advocate, a friend, the most. At least Remy had Storm, his sister at heart, if not by blood. And Wolverine seemed to be growing more and more supportive of him since that mockery of a trial.

_It appears_ _my little black sheep have found comfort in each other. _As Charles Xavier shifted in his chair, a small smile caught him as a swell of relief eased his thoughts. _At least I haven't failed them completely. _

Charles laughed easily. "I've been doing alot of nothing." Since his return, Charles had relegated himself to the background. Scott and Emma were doing an incredible job managing the school, and the teams. And, Scott was still so resentful of his leaving and, then again, at his unceremonious return. He was actually enjoying being a teacher and mentor, and relished the opportunity to reconnect with his students.

As soon as the elevator deposited them on the lower level, Remy strode ahead of the Professor to the Danger Room control booth. Hank and Scott were already inside, making the final program adjustments needed for the interrogation of their uninvited guests.

" Remy, you're actually a few minutes early." Scott noted with some surprise, as he checked his watch. "Charles," he greeted his mentor coolly.

"Good Morning, Scott. Hank." He gave a quick glance around. "Where's Emma?"

"She'll be down in a minute or two." Scott tried to cover his anxiety with a show of confidence. Emma was actually in their room, mentally preparing for this interrogation. She had awakened this morning still tentative but still not knowing why. She'd taught her class this morning, distracted and unfocused. And her turmoil had naturally spilled over to Scott through the psychic link they shared. He knew from his long experience that telepaths were prone to periods of flightiness and downright bizarre behavior. It was a fact of life. All telepaths, and their loved ones, had to deal with it as best they could.

_She'll be fine_. he reassured himself. _She is the strongest willed woman I have ever met. She'll be fine_.

"We're ready, Scott. I'll go retrieve our guests." Hank pressed a few keys and the Danger Room displayed a comfortable living room scene. A scenario designed to put their captives at ease. As Hank approached the door, it slid open as Emma arrived on the other side. She caught Scott's gaze.

"Are we ready?"

"It's already running." Scott reached out for her hand, squeezing gently in reassurance.

"Good Morning, Charles. Thank you for your assistance on this. " Emma had specifically ask for his back up. She was sure she was just overreacting, but better safe than sorry.

"No need, my dear." He waved her off and gave her a warm smile.

"Let's get dis show on de road, folks." Gambit tried to keep the comment from coming out as snippy but was sure he failed. He was most eager for some sleep.

Emma and Scott walked silently to the Danger Room below. He glanced in her direction. Her expression was uncharacteristically stoic. She was focused, unblinking, on something far away. He gave her hand another small squeeze. She returned the gesture by intertwining her fingers in his, gripping his hand hard enough to leave indentations his palm with her perfectly manicured fingernails. As they approached the door, she stopped, finally looking in his direction. The evil little grin, that most of the Xmen knew so well, returned to her face.

"Ready to intimidate the children, fearless leader?" The lilt to her voice was sultry yet mocking. It was the tone she employed so often to provoke everyone around her to rage.

Scott gave a half snorted chuckle with a small shake of his head. Not so long ago, he would have reacted to that tone of voice like the challenge it was intended to be. She had used it for so long it was now habit. And he knew her much better than that now. He raised her hand to his lips and placed a small kiss across her knuckles as he responded.

"You know it, babe."

They entered the Danger Room, soon followed by the three captives and a stern-faced Beast. The three boys took seats around the table as Beast secured the room and stood cross-armed at the door, looking very menacing and wholly unimpressed. What a thespian. Scott introduced himself, Emma and Beast. The three boys spat out their names.

"Recoil."

"Daedelus."

"Friction."

Thankfully, the boys had taken advantage of the bathing facilities provided in the holding cell. They were clean, although they looked quite disconcerted with their new attire; Xavier Institute sweats. They were tugging at sleeves and readjusting waistbands like self conscious thirteen year old girls in gym class.

After twenty minutes of basic questions (powers, ranks, clan affiliations) they finally got down to the business at hand.

"Now," Scott's fists were planted on the table as he loomed over them, his ruby-quartz visor obscuring any hint of emotion, "who wants to tell me why you decided to break and enter at my school?" They stumbled over each other verbally before Recoil, the older, dark haired boy, took up the narrative.

"After the Genosha massacre, Domina gathered up what was left of our Clan, and we ran. Wandered around Europe for awhile. Finally made our way home. She met with the other clan leaders and they decided we should all go into hiding. There were so few of us left." Recoil's tone was like it had been memorized from a script. This fact was not lost on the X-Men present. They allowed him to continue uninterrupted.

"We were all just scraping by, gathering our strength, training. About six weeks ago,"he paused, "They came."

The youngest of them, Daedelus, involuntarily shivered, wrapping his arms around himself as if suddenly caught in a arctic breeze. Recoil, catching his friend's reaction, wrapped a protective arm around the blond boy's shoulder. He looked sadly at his young friend. "He's been running the whole time. He's Lost Souls. Spirit Clan. They were hit first."

"Hit by what?" Cyclops asked flatly. He still stood, regarding them, and their story, suspiciously.

"By **Them**." Recoil struggled to describe now what they had always been taught never to mention.

"T-them. The Elders, the Old Ones. The Covenant. Those That Came Before." Frustrated, he knew how this grasping at words sounded. Childish superstition. At least, it was until six weeks ago.

"We do not speak of them," he continued. "So it is hard to explain."

Up in the control booth, Gambit cocked a disbelieving eyebrow. "Dat sounds like a load o' crap to me. Never heard nothin' like dis from any Neo I ever met. And dey like to run der mout's quite a bit."

"On the surface, I would be prone to agree with you, Remy. But, all three of these boys genuinely believe this tale they are telling."

"Wouldn't be da first time Domina filled a kids head full of lies and t'rew dem to de wolves."

"Relax, Recoil," Emma took over the questioning. "We are not going to hurt you. If you are telling us the truth, and truly need our help, then it is yours for the asking." She was trying to gain their confidence, not so much for their comfort, but for greater ease of accessibility to their minds. Mentally, they were all racing, paranoid and frightened. It was like trying to run down a jack rabbit, the thoughts were so fleeting. She closed the distance between them and ran her hand through the boy's hair, letting it fall to rest warmly on his shoulder. "Take a deep breath." She instructed. The boy haltingly complied. She mimicked the action with him. Once more, more fluid, more calming. "Now, try again. Who are these Old Ones?" Scott now sat in a chair. She never ceased to impress him. The good cop to his bad, even though, not so long ago, their roles were reversed. She could get amazing results with just a few words and a smile.

_That's how she got me, after all. _While her motives always remained the same, her compassion had grown to surprising proportions. But that was their secret. No one could know that Emma Frost was going soft. The Ice Queen had a reputation to protect.

Calmer now, Recoil continued. "The Old Ones came before the Neo. They gathered the first clans. They gave us our laws. They gave each clan their purpose. And they instilled pride in our mutant heritage. If we ever wanted to join them, we would have to prove ourselves. Through our actions and our restraint. Through combat and compassion with, and for, our fellow brethren. And through the strength of our faith." His words were practiced and measured like a mantra, or a prayer. Hank still stood at the door, thoughtfully stroked his chin. This explanation was sounding like a Sunday school sermon. There was no doubt these boys believed this story. But, why would the Neo teach such tripe to their progeny?

"We failed them!" blurted out Friction. "We failed them, and they came to punish us. All of us!" the boy was practically screaming. Daedelus threw his arms around the chestnut haired boy and he collapsed into the embrace sobbing.

"He is Crimson Pirate. Stealth Clan." Daedelus explained." They fought for their freedom when The Old Ones came to claim them. They fought with everything they had. He watched as most of his clan was slaughtered. Six Old Ones against forty-two Pirates. And they swatted the Pirates down like gnats. Like they were insignificant. Friction was in charge of the young ones of his clan. He escaped with them before they, too, were destroyed."

Emma could clearly see Friction's memories of the event in his mind as his friend retold it for him. There were six figures. They loomed larger than life. Like gods. Their bodies covered in a swirling black mass that obscured their forms. A simple dark helmet covered each face. Five of them stood, one hovered just above, and behind the group. The hovering figure seemed to be composed of the black substance. The largest figure among them spoke in a booming, metallic voice.

"Neophytes of the Stealth Clan. Your time has come to an end." At a gesture from him, the five aggressors attacked with an impressive array of mutant borne powers. The Neo fought, but the strange black armor absorbed every weapon blast, every mutant power used against them. They fell before their more powerful foes, like a house of cards in the breeze.

From inside the boys memories, Emma could hear the battle. Feel the rush of air as weapons discharged around her. Yet, as she followed the boy's tale, her attention kept being pulled back to the black, hovering figure. She, _it was a she,_ had distinctive female curves beneath the black miasma. Silent. Motionless. Impassive to the battle before her.

A tearful Friction concluded his piece of their tale as it played out in his mind. "Death came for the fallen, and absorbed them all into darkness. Like they never existed. Wiped clean from the face of the earth. She didn't even leave bodies for us to bury!"

Charles joined Emma as they eavesdropped on the boy's thoughts. Watched as the black figure hovered over the fallen. Each swallowed by the same swirling energy that encompassed her form. Once all the Neo were encased they simply disappeared. Then the attackers followed them into nothingness. Leaving only the hovering watcher over the smoldering battlefield.

Again, Emma was gripped by the distracting urge to focus on her. She could feel a tickle at the back of her neck, like the warm breath of someone about to whisper affectionately in her ear. She felt calm and reassured, even though all her senses were screaming for her to take action against the obvious psychic intrusion into her formidably shielded mind. The black figure waggled a disapproving finger in their direction.

_Has the Ice Queen come out to play? _The low, soft voice, mired with mischievousness and seduction, echoed in her mind.

Emma Frost disengaged from Friction's mind with a startled gasp, stepped away from the boy as if, somehow, close proximity to him put her at risk.

"Emma?" Scott closed the distanced between them, concerned, but still maintaining the cool look of authority he had mastered over the years. She did not acknowledge him but continued her slow retreat from the boy. He put a supportive hand around her arm.

"Emma." She shook her head, trying to grasp the depth of what just happened, patted Scott's hand and gave him a weak smile.

"I'm fine." She turned quickly to the boys. "Thank you. We will talk later. Beast, could you find our guests some appropriate quarters. They will be staying. However, the collars stay on until we can more thoroughly assess their powers." She turned on her heel and exited the room without further word of explanation.

Scott and Hank exchanged a puzzled look and watched Emma's departure. Scott, sidestepping his way to the door to catch up to her, summoned his authoritative voice. "Beast, assign them a senior team advisor and get their security profiles. You boys best be telling us the whole truth. I don't take kindly to being played with. You may want to think long and hard about filling in some details the next time we talk." Scott then followed Emma up to the control room.

"Well kiddies, welcome to The Xavier Institute. Do I have the perfect advisor in mind for you." Hank clasped the boys shoulders warmly, catching all three of them in his single armed grasp as he lead them down the hall. "Won't you join me in my lab."

"Emma, dear, what is it? What happened?" Charles was more than concerned. Emma was spooked by something she saw in the boys mind but he detected nothing amiss while they were there.

"You didn't feel that? Didn't you sense..." her voice trailed off. "There was someone there, Charles. She was in my head. She was toying with me. I never even felt the intrusion until she was already there. How could you not have sensed it? How could I..." Emma was pacing, wringing her hands as Scott hurried into the room.

"What happened? Emma, what is it?" Scott passed a worried look between her and his mentor.

"We saw the boys memories, the Old Ones, and the apparent massacre. It seems one of them may have been a telepath." Charles tried to explain but he was only theorizing based on this initial information.

"That bitch was in my head!" Emma's raised voice was angry, appalled and tinged with fear. "I couldn't sense her, there was nothing there to grasp. It was the hovering one. Death. I'm certain, Charles, it was her."

Gambit squeezed his eyes shut. What these boys were describing sounded way too familiar and hit much too close to home. He saw his worst memories replayed on Friction's terrified face and it took him right back to the tunnels like it was yesterday. And a telepath in Emma's head, too. It couldn't be coincidence.

_It can't be. Not again. _Remy backed up slowly, a nervous finger sliding methodically back and forth across his lips. "Remy's gotta go. Remy's no help wit 'paths." He referred to himself in third person. It was an old, annoying habit he thought he had conquered. It was something he did around people he didn't trust, or when he felt threatened or afraid. It made him feel weak. He headed for the door, praying they'd just let him leave to purge these, suddenly intense, thoughts from his head.

"Remy..." Scott called after him but Charles just placed a hand on his arm and shook his head 'no'.

"We must deal with this issue first. Emma, is she still with you? Do you still sense her or hear her? " Charles turned his focus to Emma and lightly scanned the surface of her thoughts looking for the telltale traces of a psychic intruder.

"No. No, she's gone. It was like she was standing right behind me. Using that boy's memories as a link somehow. I never knew she was there until she was already in my head . How could I not know!" Emma's thoughts tumbled out of her mouth as quickly as they came to her as she turned the brief event over and over in her mind. Not only was she unused to being psychically assaulted, the fact that Charles Xavier, the strongest telepath on the planet, had sensed nothing truly worried her. She felt vulnerable for the first time since she was a girl, and that alone was feeding a new found fury that was just beginning to spark to life deep in her gut.

Emma turned to Scott, a battle plan already taking form in her head. In her experience, the best defense against the psychically gifted was a strong offense. She had to root out this aggressor before she became a real threat.

"I need to find Jono and Tessa." She look at Scott with uncertainty in her eyes. " We both have new missions, Scott."


	4. Ghosts of the Past

"It's going to be standing room only down there." Rachel looked around at her teammates as they made their way down to the War Room. " We haven't had a full staff meeting in," she paused, "forever."

Wolverine followed her down the steps. "Something's up. Scott and Emma have been more uptight than usual."

"As if that is possible." Northstar effortlessly passed them. He wasn't about to be stuck standing for one of Scott's notoriously long, dull meetings.

Bobby, at the bottom of the steps, laughed, "Riiiight. Coming from you! Then again, I guess a pro is the only one qualified to pass that kinda judgement."

"Coming from you, that's actually a compliment." Jean-Paul gave him a little sideways sneer as he passed him in hall. He entered the War Room, only to find that he was the first to arrive. He took a seat at the far end of the table. Scott was at the head console reviewing maps. That was a good sign. There was going to be a mission involved. Jean-Paul wasn't sure why he accepted the Professor's offer to come teach again. He hated teaching, hated kids, hated paperwork and hated how uptight the X-men were in general. But, when the missions did come around they were usually spectacular. He wouldn't have been called to the meeting if he wasn't going to be involved. The adrenaline junkie in him let a wiry little grin wrap across his lips.

The rest of the X-men filtered into the room. Extra seating had been dragged in from the lab. Bobby, Rachel and Logan took seats flanking Jean-Paul at the back of the table. Emma, Charles, Tessa and Jono entered, obviously engrossed in a mental conversation, their faces conveying the seriousness of their topic. They took seats at the head of the table, flanking Scott.

Rogue, Pete, Kurt and Rahne entered, laughing at Kurt's story about his last visit to his half brother in Australia. They all took seats on either side of the center of the table. Rogue scanned the room, obviously looking for someone in particular, before settling into her seat. Logan gave her a nod as her eyes passed over him. She returned the gesture with a weak smile and refocused on Kurt's tale.

Warren and Paige entered arm in arm, as usual, engrossed in a conversation about bed linens. Apparently, she wanted the twelve hundred thread count sheets and Warren only bought the eight hundred and in the wrong color. Warren grabbed two chairs from the back of the room and pulled them around the side, closer to Scott, offering one to his girl.

Danielle, Ororo and Kitty entered, discussing the most promising among their students. Logan shot a curious glance in Ro's direction as he heard Jay's name interjected amidst their conversation. Nothing negative, he was glad to hear. Kitty ruffled Kurt's hair as she passed him; old habits die hard, especially in this group. They took up seats in the back of the room.

Scott looked up from his console, scanning the nearly full room. He checked the time. "Hank and Sam should just be finishing up their classes. We'll get started in a few minutes." On cue, the two hurried into the room.

"Sorry, Scott. Took longer than I thought." Sam offered a breathless apology. He hated to be late.

"Not a problem, Sam. Looks like you two aren't the one's holding us up." Scott caught sight of the two empty chairs that remained.

"We're not missing anyone important, Scott. Might as well start without 'em." Rogue just couldn't resist a golden opportunity to take a jab at Gambit in front of the entire team. Logan shot her a hard stare. Jean-Paul, Bobby and Kurt rolled their eyes in unison, clearly tired of her constant onslaught of insults.

"We will not begin until the rest of my team has arrived." Ororo plainly stated. She did not want to place herself in the middle of the latest squabble between her dear friend and her adopted brother. But both of them sniping at each other was sorely testing her ample patience.

A few tense minutes later, Jubilee and Gambit sprinted into the room, in full uniform, sweaty and panting.

"Sorry folks, my bad. I forgot to set the timer again." Jubilee stopped short as she caught the stares of the entire senior staff. Usually, she enjoyed being the center of attention, but she got the distinct impression she just screwed up royally. She was expecting her team, not the whole freakin' staff.

"Fashionably late, as usual?" Jean-Paul shot Gambit an evil little grin

"Got a reputation to uphold, non?" He gave his bo staff a tap on the floor as it retracted. Rogue gave a disgusted 'tsk' and turned to face Scott. Paige smacked Jubilee across the thigh and shook a finger at her as she hurried past. Jubilee countered with a stuck out tongue. They quickly slid into the available seats next to Storm. Jubilee gave her team leader her best 'I'm sorry' pout accompanied by the 'soulful-puppy-dog-eyed' look she had been working on. Storm patted her hand and gave her a warm smile. Well, Scott did want everyone to train more often.

"Good." Scott stated flatly, impassive to the delay. He had more important things to focus on. A security camera image flashed onto the screen. Three boys were cautiously sniffing at, and tentatively eating, a late lunch in a mostly empty cafeteria.

"These were our uninvited 'guests' three nights ago. They're Neo, and they came here asking for our help. It would seem that Domina, and a few of her War Clan, survived the Genosha Massacre. And our previous suspicions about the existence of other Neo clans were true. The story these boys have to tell is..." he paused, his lips drawing in tight "...bad." Scott cast a wary glance around the room, saw that he had their full attention, even if he was catching a few suspicious expressions among those that had fought Domina before.

"There were five Neo clans. These boys represent three of them. I was just as suspicious as some of you, but, after some detailed conversations with myself, Emma and Charles, it was decided to give this our full attention. These boys report that their clans are being wiped out. Massacred for 'being unworthy'. Whatever that means. They came to us under Domina's direct order. Supposedly, the War Clan is on the run since they are the last clan left. And the boys have been unable to contact her through the channels she gave them."

Warren's face went pale as Scott presented his information. His thoughts began racing, the word 'massacre' was all he needed to hear for the flight muscles in his back to contract involuntarily with a quick jerk, then a shiver. His face twisted into a scowl as he turned his head to fix his gaze on Gambit, at the back of the room.

LeBeau was slumped way down in his seat, legs straight, crossed at the ankles, elbows propped up on the arms of the chair with his hands folded, fingers tightly intertwined, masking most of the lower part of his face. His eyes were glazed and unfocused, staring straight ahead, unblinking. He knew this moment was coming since the boys' first interview. The few days between then and now hadn't prepared him but, rather, fueled his inner turmoil. He could feel Warren's eyes on him, and a few others. He tensed, waiting for the accusations to begin, unsure of what he would do. What could he do? It didn't matter what he said or what he did to prove himself to these, his friends, his family, because the ghosts of the Morlocks Massacre would always find a way to haunt him. And here they were again, in the guise of three scared kids, bringing the old wound fresh to the surface.

Warren slammed his eyes shut, forcing his heated reaction down.

_I'm past this. I forgave Gambit. This has nothing to do with The Morlocks. _He repeated the words over and over in his head, shocked at the intensity of his reaction. He really thought he was over this. _I'm past this. I forgave Gambit. This has nothing to do with The Morlocks. At least, it better not._

"Owww..." Paige was looking at him, a small, pained expression on her face. Her wide eyes then looked down at her hand. He was squeezing it so tight both of their knuckles were white. He quickly released her hand, mouthing a weak 'sorry' in condolence.

The Professor immediately sensed a flush of strong emotion. He gave Warren a quietly concerned look. Warren just shook his head and turned his attention back to Scott. Charles stole a quick glance in Gambit's direction. As always, the Cajun was unreadable, his mental shields tighter than ever but his posture and the lack of expression spoke volumes about his state of mind. He would make it a point to talk with him after the meeting. Scott noted the silent exchange and the tension he expected this all too familiar scenario to cause. Hopefully, barreling into the details would bring their focus back to the present.

"These are satellite photos of three of the locations the boys described..."

"Wait, " Hank interrupted, nudging Scott away from the console "I should have received the last image by now." Hank took a minute or two, tapping away at the keyboard, then added a fourth image to Scott's presentation.

"Thanks." Scott scanned the folders in front of him as satellite images flickers on the screen. "There's not much to see. One was a derelict ship not far off the coast of Oregon, that was ditched when the battle went south. Of the ones we have visuals on, two are mainly underground but the third shows some signs of a fight." A quiet, strangled 'gasp' passed around the room as the fourth image flickered onto the screen. What was most likely a small secluded compound in the woods could now only pass for charcoal. Scott panned out on the image. The ground in a quarter mile radius was blackened and apparently still smoldering. A large crater gaped at the far northern edge of the destruction, revealing an underground level that had apparently been breached from above.

"Mein gott! Vhat are ve looking at, Scott? Vere dere people here?" Kurt was perched on the edge of his chair, the familiar knot in his stomach reminding him that he already knew the answers and that they weren't going to be good.

"This was supposed to be the compound that Domina retreated to with the rest of her clan." Scott rifled through his notes from his conversations with the boys. " Between the War Clan and the surviving members of the other clans the boys estimated that there were about one hundred and twenty people there. Most of them children, all mutants." Kurt made the sign of the cross and said a silent prayer.

"Who?" Logan's low, throaty grumble was the only sound that could sum up each one of their feelings at the moment. Scott looked to Emma as she stood and picked up the briefing.

"All we have to go on are the recollections of these boys." Emma explained. "Charles and I have examined them thoroughly and this is all we could piece together."

Scott was already punching up the program. The screen flickered as the rough, holographic animation of Friction's memories, then Daedelus', played on the screen.

"These are our bad guys. " Scott placed side-by-side comparisons of the aggressors on the screen. Both boy's memories showed a group of five individuals, coated in a black swirling energy with a sixth figure, entirely composed of that energy, hovering just behind them, as if directing them. Both battle scenes depicted a disturbing array of powerful mutant abilities. The largest figure among them seemed to be packing the most power being huge, unreasonably strong and controlling some sort of bio energy. Another was shorter by comparison, but wide, and bulldozed his way through opponents. Another seemed to have some sort of elemental control, and another dropped opponents with nothing but a gesture. The last mimicked every mutant power thrown at her plus a few that had not been employed on the battlefield. All were expertly skilled in hand to hand combat. The hovering figure in both scenarios seemingly did nothing but watch the battle.

The only discrepancy in the two accounts was in Daedelus' memories; in that, the strongest figure directed a powerful bio energy burst at the hovering figure above who absorbed it without reaction or consequence. The black energy encasing them all absorbed every form of energy that encountered it. In the end, the hovering figure, the one Recoil named Death, was the last one remaining on the battlefield. The Neo and the 'Old Ones' simply seemed to collapse into the black swirling energy in which they were all encased and vanished.

"While I questioned Recoil, this Death figure made an abrupt appearance in my mind." Emma's eyes abruptly shot to her feet as her voice dipped lower "I did not sense her. I cannot trace her." Emma paused. She caught her own reaction with a twinge of repulsion. She squared her shoulders, hardened the glare in her eye and looked up with a dramatic flip of her platinum blonde tresses. "Charles, Jono, Tessa and I have spent the last three days collectively trying to trace this telepath with no success whatsoever."

Marvel Girl twisted uncomfortably in her seat. _Of all the gall. _All this talk of a telepath and a threat yet Emma still could not see past her own arrogance to ask for her assistance. _Of all people. _Emma requested Tessa's help. Pulled her in from God knows where to assist her, no less. Rachel's anger was growing, becoming a palpable thing that flared to life in her eyes as she glared at Emma in disgust. Only as one of Ahab's hounds did she experience the levels of hate that Emma could spur her towards. And the fact that Emma still had that kind of effect on her, in turn, deepened the intensity of the dark emotions, whipping them into a vicious circle that threatened to consume her on the spot.

Logan felt Rachel's wave of anger long before any physical sign of it appeared. The tiny scrap of Phoenix force that her small frame housed still provoked, in him, the same intense reactions to her emotions that her mother's did. He put a strong arm around her shoulder and pulled her in tight, hugging her to his side. She would never find a way to coexist comfortably with Emma. He stared down at her until she finally raised her chin to meet his warm gaze. Her eyes were ablaze and filled with angry tears. He pulled her in tighter, and placed his hand in her hair to guide her head to his shoulder. She initially resisted, wanting desperately to lash out, but finally acquiesced, squeezing her eyes tight as her head lulled into Logan's embrace.

"We are fairly sure these are mutants we have not encountered before and, according to Tessa, there are no recorded instances of individuals even vaguely matching these descriptions anywhere on the planet. We do not know if these Neo clans are actually dead since they all seem to have been unquestionably removed from the scene. But the boys are adamant, and their memories are too well imprinted to be anything but the truth as they witnessed it." With this final statement, Emma took her seat.

The screen flashed back to the security camera on the boys in the cafeteria.

"Teleporter." Kitty and Kurt said it at the same time. They passed each other a knowing glance. "Dey vill be hard to track if one of dem is a 'porter, and, by de look of it, a powerful one." Kurt finished the thought.

"My thought, too." Scott resumed. "We are going to start at the beginning. Recon and report. It seems we have already missed our window of opportunity for a rescue." Scott gathered his papers, with a small shake of his head. _I should have reacted quicker. _Emma caught his self debasing thought.

I don't think it would have mattered. she tried to reassure him.

We'll never know now, will we?

"I've shuffled the teams a bit. I'll head Alpha team with Emma, Logan, Kitty, Hank, Bobby. Storm, you'll head Beta team with Remy, Jono, Pete, Kurt and Jubilee. Warren, Gamma team with Paige, Rogue, Rachel, Rahne and, for this mission, Sam." Scott caught Northstar's attention with a half nod in his direction. " Jean- Paul, I need you to coordinate with all three teams. All the sites we need to recon are in North America and I'd like for you to recon the Oregon site too, just in case there's something we missed on the satellite images." He glanced around the room. "Everyone, coms stay open on this one. We stay in touch, just in case." His teams were more than ready. They were all steeled for a fight, as angry as he was at the apparent loss of life they were about to confront. Sure, they were all itching for a good fight lately but not with these stakes. Not with so much needless loss. Again.

"We leave in an hour, people." Cyclops, the stalwart leader of the Xmen, summoned his command voice. Authoritative. Decisive. Emotionless. His ruby quartz visor, once again, masking the pain that only reflected in his eyes.


	5. Choice and Consequence

Gambit sprinted for his room. If he was going on this mission he sure wasn't going in a sweat drenched uniform. He bounded up the north stairwell, his long legs carrying him effortlessly, two and three stairs at a time.

_Cyke woulda said somet'ing if he didn't want me to go. Wouldn't he? _His thoughts were a confused and jumbled argument that clouded his head.

The logical, rational, confident hero named Gambit was more than ready to seize this opportunity to prove, once and for all, to friends and family, that he was more than capable of living up to their expectations. That, whomever this enemy turned out to be, he was with them one hundred percent. Without question. Without doubt.

Countless times, he selflessly risked his life defending this world that still hated, and feared, him for being born a mutant. After a few false starts, some bad luck and more than a few mistakes, he made a choice. Gambit was an X-Man. His own philosophy now a blended version of Storm's passion for protecting the human race with Xavier's fight for mutant rights. The lingering doubts his friends harbored about him would finally be obliterated with this mission. They would see him for the man he had finally become.

But the lonely, guilt ridden, world weary man named Remy LeBeau saw only more angst in his near future. How many times had he let himself be used, for one nefarious scheme after another? The list of madmen and murderers that had his number was a _Who's Who_ of vicious enemies that keeping his friends so busy. But, no matter what he did, no matter how selflessly he placed himself in harm's way, no matter how painful his sacrifices, this family of friends that worked their way into his heart, would never see him as the hero he was trying so hard to be.

Liar.

Traitor.

Thief.

Even Stormy still looked at him differently since the trial, though she would never admit to it. This mission would remind them all, yet again, exactly why they loathed him and they would cast him out for the final time.

Arriving at his bedroom, he placed a tentative hand on his door.

_Stop being pathetic. _He chided himself._ Make up your mind_. Dropping his forehead into his other hand, he took a deep breath as a brief flash of long buried memory cut through his foggy thoughts like a ray of sunshine.

He and cousin Etienne, thirteen and twelve years old respectively, in the French Quarter at Mardi Gras. The streets filled to the brim with touristes, drunken frat boys and half naked cheerleaders. Pockets and purses brimming with cash and plastic. Such easy pickings for even the youngest of thieves. His brother, Henri, dares them to a chicken run. One on either side of St. Charles Street, at the height of the Orpheus krewe's Fat Tuesday parade, run the ten blocks from Napoleon to Canal, relieving the tourists of their valuables. And in broad daylight. The biggest pinch wins.

Usually, a thief picks his marks carefully with wary eyes on his surroundings. For today, not only is the street packed with people but also police, uniforms and plainclothes, looking out specifically for the very thing they are about to do. And boy, would Jean-Luc tan their hides if they get busted! But a dare is a dare. As Etienne and Remy shake hands, both excited, and more than a little nervous at what they are about to do, his cousin flashes a smile that is both angelic and devilish at the same time, and says, "When in doubt, do it anyway."

_When in doubt, do it anyway._ _You can always sort it out at the end._

"T'anks, cousin." he whispered with a small relieved smile. It may not have been the best advice, but his Guild training had saved his sorry ass more times than anyone or anything. And this precious little shard of memory reminded him that, ultimately, no matter the outcome of his actions, he was his own savior when no one else wanted the job.

He opened the door and entered. He had to get changed.

* * *

In the hanger bay, Cyclops, Beast, Northstar and Marvel Girl readied the jets for their mission.

As Cyclops slipped into his command chair with a conspicuous creak of stiff, new leather his dismal mood slowly began to dissipate as he ran his hands appreciatively over the instrument panels of his newest toy. He smiled wide, then chuckled softly at himself. Nothing brought him such child-like glee like new jet smell. And this newest incarnation of the Blackbird was the most advanced terrestrial aircraft he would ever have the pleasure of flying.

He had called in more than a few favors from Forge, while Emma pulled some strings at Stark International. Then Hank retrofitted all their favorite Shi'ar gadgetry to equip the X-men's newest ride with an impressive array of unique features. The ultimate big boy toy.

With a wide, boyish grin, he methodically began pressing buttons, keying codes, like a maestro at the podium, conducting his first symphony. The aircraft purred to life under his direction. Cyclops could hear Northstar and Beast in the aft hold, stocking extra medical supplies. He listened as the conversation trailed off into the distance as they exited down the ramp. This new jet was nearly silent as the engines warmup sequence initiated with a faint whir. He was pleased.

"Cyclops?" the unexpected voice called from behind. The normally cool, collected leader of the Xmen nearly jumped out of his uniform as he whipped around in his seat.

"Rachel!" he put a hand to his thumping chest, with a small shake of his head. "You scared the crap out of me." He took a moment to collect his thoughts "Did you learn that from Logan? I didn't even hear you board, you sneak."

"Maybe it's because I'm a telepath." Rachel let the bitter venom drip from her words. "You know, just in case you forgot." She shoved a slim laptop computer into his hands, a small cord dangling from its side. "The new adapters should fit the nav computer interface." She turned to leave before finishing the sentence, her face tight, brows furrowed with barely contained anger.

He reached out and grasped her wrist, "Rach, talk to me."

She tried to tug free, but he held fast knowing he couldn't make her stay if she truly didn't want to. But, he had to try. Her chin trembled slightly as she frowned, trying hard to restrain her emotions before she embarrassed herself.

"Please?" Scott's voice was soft, almost pleading. She looked at him tears equal parts anger and despair, welling in her eyes.

"Talk about what? The same thing, over and over again? I hate her, she hates me and you just want to stay out of it. I could have helped with this mission and you know it. More than Jono. More than Tessa." She pressed hard on the bridge of her nose, trying to relieve the building pressure of suppressed tears. She continued, her voice choked with emotion. "Does Emma hate me even more than she hates Tessa? She can manage a professional relationship with _her_. What about me? I'm part of this team, or so you tell me. Tell me how that's good for the team, Cyclops?"

He winced as she spit out his codename. It wasn't all that long ago she called him Dad. He could live with her calling him Scott, as long as she didn't say it with such pain in her voice. It seemed the only way to placate her anger, and assuage her pain, would be to make a choice. Which could he live without? The young women he loved as a daughter, or the love of his life?

_How can a man cut out a piece of his own heart?_ And, even though she never said the words, he knew Rachel wanted him to make that choice.

"It's not good for the team. I know it's not, Rachel. And, this time, you are absolutely right. We argued over exactly that for hours the other night. But," he paused, trying to summon the appropriate words for his conflicted emotions.

"But she always gets her way because you have no spine when she's in the room." Rachel abruptly finished the thought for him.

He let out a long, punctuated sigh. He deserved that.

"Maybe." The whispered response betrayed his emotions. He dropped his head, as he forced the air from his lungs. Squeezing his eyelids tight, mustering his nerve before looking back up at her anguished face. "But what would you have me do, Rach? How can I draw the line with her when this involves a telepath? How can I tell her what to do, when she was the one attacked?"

He was so weary of the fighting, over and over again. It didn't matter what he said, he couldn't win. His voice lowered again in defeat as he released his hold on her wrist "I tried, sweetie. I tried."

"Yeah, I know you did." Rachel lowered her eyes as she headed slowly for the ramp. "It just never seems to be good enough, does it, Cyclops?"

* * *

Kurt and Logan had one last detail to attend before leaving on their mission. It just so happened that the objects of their search were in the same location. They were engaged in conversation, wedging their way through busy students, who were rushing in both directions, on the east stairwell.

"I am not sure I am up to zhis challenge, Logan. I can handle demons, dragons, homicidal mutants and religious zealots. But zhis..." Kurt was shaking his head in despair

"Listen up, elf," Logan interjected. "Yer readin' way too much inta this." He was interrupted by a loud wail and a stream of laughter as a gaggle of younger students rushed past them on the landing. Bobby, covered in a green, viscous substance, in hot pursuit.

'You slimy little monkeys are gonna pay, big time!" Bobby yelled after them. He sounded angry, but had a smile plastered to his goo-covered green face as he deftly jumped the railing to catch up to his, now screaming, fleet footed tormentors. They got him good and he had just enough time to make sure they regretted it. Kurt and Logan watched him from over their shoulders as he disappeared over the railing. They continued now down the hall.

"As I was sayin', ya need a different approach. This ain't like fightin' Sentinels, or beatin' down demons. All that subtle charm 'n flair 'o yers ain't gonna work here. Yer too much Errol Flynn. Ya need more Clint Eastwood," he said as he stopped in front of the last door on the left, soundly rapping on it. He lowered his voice to a raspy whisper, "Remember..." and pointed his finger in the air like a gun then mouthed "pow" as he pulled the imaginary trigger. They heard shuffling inside, a few hushed whispers, then a voice full of freshly summoned courage.

"Come in!"

Inside, Gutherie sat on his bed, Ethan sitting in a desk chair, effortlessly balancing on two legs. Along the window ledge sat the Neo; Recoil, Friction and Daedelus. The quintet tried to look nonchalant, but Logan could smell the nervous tension. They were all trying to hide something. He gave a quick sniff of the air, but didn't detect any hint of Jay's usual vice. Logan cocked his head at a slight angle, hooked his thumbs in his belt and nodded in Jay's direction.

"What ya up to, Hayseed? I know that look." Logan's suspicious glare passed over each boy, trying to discern what game they were playing.

"Nothing. We're just talking. You know, telling the guys about the school and all," Jay said, a pout of his lip to reinforce his innocence. While Jay's poker face had come a long way, it still wasn't quite tight enough. His nervousness reverberated just underneath the smooth delivery. But Logan couldn't detect anything else obviously amiss.

_Cagey little sneak_. _He's up to something_. He actually admired the kid's gumption, but he couldn't let Jay know that. He didn't have time to dig the truth out of him now, so he made a mental note to do so after the mission. As Jay and Ethan's senior advisor, it was Logan's job to see to their day to day discipline. And Jay kept him busy. He was here to mete out punishment for their transgression earlier this week. Midterms usually gave them a three day reprieve, but that was about to be revoked.

"I'm here about yer plans for the weekend." Logan's smug expression clearly betrayed his sadistic plan "You 'n Ethan have a date. The lovely Ms. Stevie Hunter has agreed ta babysit you two this weekend. You will be her personal servant boys from sun up ta'morrow ta sunset on Sunday." Logan patted Jay's leg with two quick swats of his gloved hand. His voice lowered menacingly, as a feral grin wrapped around his face. "Remember ta pack yer tights, fly boy."

Ethan sucked in a big breath of air to speak out in protest. Logan wheeled around in his direction in less than the blink of an eye.

"You got somethin' ta say ta me, boy? Eh?" Logan raised a hand to his ear mockingly. "What's that? I can't hear ya." Ethan swallowed his breath with an audible gulp as he seemed to visibly shrink a few inches in his chair. Then, unexpectedly lost his balance. Ethan threw his arms up, reached desperately for the floor with his feet, teetering on the edge of an undignified crash. He jerked himself forward, forcing the front chair legs to comply as they hit the floor with a thud. He just looked at the older man, wide eyed and silent, though a bit embarrassed.

"I didn't think so. And ya know what happens if I hear that you two gave Stevie even an ounce a trouble." Logan stood, arms folded across his chest. In his peripheral vision, he saw Kurt still standing in the doorway. Logan waved him in the direction of his three Neo charges. "Next."

Recoil, Friction and Daedelus regarded their senior advisor with disdain. Domina respected the fighting abilities of these X-men she sent them to. But, she had never warned them about - this. This low born, blue skinned freak was just one of a seemingly endless number of genejokes in this freakshow they called a school. The X-Man could talk all he liked, but that didn't mean they had to listen. They would sooner take orders off a flatscan.

"Boys, ve are off to find out vhat happened to your families. Dr. Reyes and Nurse Annie vill be looking after you vhile vee are gone. Do you haf anyt'ing more to tell us before ve go?" Kurt was doing his best to be empathetic. These boys were born into, and raised with, the bigotry they openly displayed toward him and many of the other students. It wasn't their fault their lives were filled with hate from the day they were born. He truly wanted to reach out to them, to teach them that there was another way. That men and mutants were not measured by the purity of their genetic makeup, but by the strength of their character and deeds done in service to their fellow man.

Daedelus eyed him and turned his head away with a snort and a frown. Friction stared off, his forehead pressed up against the window. Recoil stood defiantly, eyes locked with Kurt's. He shrugged his shoulders, "They're dead. Vat more do you **haf** to know?" he mocked Kurt's accent.

Kurt was using every fiber of his being to maintain control. He had faced, fought and forgave bigots more arrogant, outspoken and violent than these three kids. But, for some reason he couldn't quite discern, the boy was actually able to hurt him with this childish taunt. Nightcrawler felt like an idealistic fool with little more than a single, mimicked word. He looked back to Logan, his jaw slightly agape. Logan pointed his imaginary gun and slowly pulled the trigger.

Kurt returned his focus to his adversary, yellow eyes flaring to life as he took three steps closer to Recoil, bringing him chest to chest with the arrogant youth. His tail lashed angrily behind him. The other two Neo boys tensed with the threatening gesture. This seventeen year old boy was two inches taller, probably thirty odd pounds heavier and obviously overconfident in his superiority over the smaller man. But Kurt wasn't looking to turn this into a physical confrontation. Not that these children stood a chance against him.

Ethan sat dumbfounded. Jay turned, as if to attempt to defuse the suddenly uncomfortable situation. Logan placed a heavy hand on his shoulder and shook his head 'no'.

"Sit. Down. Now." Kurt's face was a mask of grim determination. Daedelus nervously shifted his position and the blue mutant pointed a finger in his face without breaking his stare with Recoil. The blond boy flexed his fingers up in surrender as he sunk slowly back into his seat. Recoil's eyes began to shift anxiously. To the side, to catch site of his friends. To Logan, who leaned his meaty shoulder against the wall near the door, arms crossed, amused smirk on his face. To Jay, perched apprehensively on his bed, his hands balled into tight fists at his sides. Then back to the steely, blue faced, yellow eyed glare of the X-Man known as Nightcrawler.

He slowly sat down, as his eyes focused on his lap.

"You boys vill be safer here den on de streets. Whoever is hunting your clan, most likely, vill not attack you vhile you are in dis house. I suggest you get comfortable vith our hospitality. Do not do anyt'ing..." he paused, eyeing the three boys carefully, "...rash vhile ve are avay." He watched them shifting uncomfortably in their seats, doing their best to avoid his gaze. _So much hate for boys so young_. He turned to exit the room, stopped in the doorway looking back over his shoulder, his expression softening. "I am truly sorry for your loss."

* * *

Charles Xavier slowly wheeled his way around the common areas on the first floor. The students were over-exuberant, most of them free from midterms for the weekend. _So many faces_. He never imagined in his wildest dreams that his school would host so many children. _So many mutants_. So many more than anyone ever predicted. He wheeled down the hall, heading for the elevator.

He saw that his original students had risen to the challenge he presented them, all those years ago. Grown into passionate, dedicated adults. Having fought the most heinous of foes with conviction and fortitude, without thanks, or praise, for their sacrifices. For their pain. Admirable stewards of the mutant race. _Mutant race_. Did he truly just think the term? Charles Xavier arched his eyebrows in curiosity but banished the thought as the elevator car arrived. He had a more pressing issue waiting upstairs.

Charles arrived on the second floor where all was quiet. He still found it odd that Scott had decided to separate the men's and women's quarters. These were no longer immature children in need of supervision. These were no longer students in need of rules and regulations._ Humpf._ Considering Scott's most recent history with the less than demure Ms. Frost, this particular idiosyncracy seemed almost puritanical. He wheeled up to the forth door on his right. The man behind this door may have provided some inspiration for the stodgy policy. He knocked lightly, listening to the soft rustlings from within.

"Remy, it's Charles. I was wondering if I might have a word with you before the mission." he tried to sound friendly, approachable. He knew Gambit had always been a private man, especially with his feelings. The man's discomfort with him only added to the tension in their brief conversations. Charles needed to reach out to Remy, if only to let him know that support was available and freely offered.

The door swung open, Remy's voice trailing into the corridor. "Jus' gettin' cleaned up a bit. Come on in, Professor."

Charles wheeled into the room. He had never been in Remy's quarters before. In all the years he knew him, in all the years he hosted him under his own roof, he never visited the man in his own surroundings. Remy considered this house his home, these people his family. So much could be discerned about a person from their personal space; likes, dislikes, favorite colors, favorite music, hobbies. These trivial things couldn't necessarily decipher a man's morals, his ethics, or his philosophies on life. But they could build a clear picture of who the man really is. As a person. As an individual. As a friend. The thought struck Charles like the crack of a whip.

_I have been - rude. _

Charles casually surveyed the space as he entered. Sunlight barely filtered into the room through semiopaque, deep purple silk curtains which transformed it into a pale purple glow. The walls were a deep shade of crimson. Several fine pieces of antique furniture adorned the room. Heavy, dark wood, intricately carved, Art Nouveau period. His bed was a huge, ornate Gothic masterpiece. The heavily carved mahogany was aged to a nearly black, glossy patina. A few pieces of art graced the walls, framed in antique gilt frames. A small gallery light highlighted one small sketch in the center of the largest wall; a bucolic scene of a nude woman bathing in a sun dappled stream. He recognized the work but shook his head. _The DaVinci must be a print_. In all, this room was nothing like he expected. _I really don't know you at all, do I Remy?_

"So, what c'n Remy do for you, Professor?" Remy stepped from the bathroom, toweling his wet head. He was dressed in only his partly buckled pants, which hung low on his hips.

"That was about to be my question to you." Charles smiled warmly, even though it was troubling that Remy chose to shower and change uniforms in his room instead of in the team locker room, with his teammates. It was yet another sign that Remy was indeed isolating himself, slowly but surely. Charles feared that the unfortunate turn of events that brought the Neo boys to the mansion would just worsen this disturbing trend.

Remy sat on his bed and began pulling on socks then boots, regarding the Professor from under an errrant lock of damp auburn hair. "Not followin' you, Professor." He began tugging at the metal latches that secured his armored footwear at the calves.

"I'm concerned for you, Remy. I know this attack on the Neo bears an uncomfortable resemblance to..." Charles paused, regrouping his thoughts "... to another incident." With Remy's mental shields so tight, Charles couldn't be sure of his state of mind so he decided to approach the subject as delicately as possible. Remy's reaction would guide him from there.

"You c'n say it. No need ta beat around de bush on Remy's account." He continued dressing, pulling on a black, beta cloth shirt. "N' you weren't de only one to make dat connection, eh?" With a toss of his head, he flipped unruly hair back with a wet slap. "Sure glad Cyke didn't team me wit' Warren." The monotone cadence spoke volumes.

"Remy, I can't say I speak for everyone in this house, but I can say that, for the most part, you are among friends. Storm. Logan. Jubilee. Kurt. Jean-Paul. Bobby. Scott and Emma..."

Remy shot a surprised look in Charles direction._ Scott and Emma? Dat be news to Remy _he thought pulling on his gloves and wrangling his headpiece on and into the correct position. His moist hair wasn't cooperating so he yanked and tugged at the stray strands that tangled over his ears.

"...Hank. Myself," Xavier continued. "We all consider you family." Charles carefully studied Remy's face, taking measure of his reaction.

"We jus' a bit too dysfunctional to be much of a family, don' you t'ink?" Remy asked with a tiny smirk. He hoisted his armor up and over his shoulders and began fastening the latches at the sides.

Charles chuckled a bit. He was absolutely correct. Their bonds were forged in battle, out of necessity. Their camaraderie came, not from their similarities to each other but from the fact that the rest of the world would not tolerate their differences. If these X-men had led normal, unassuming, base scan human lives they would never have chosen each other as friends.

"While I may agree with that observation, I also know that you value our companionship. And I want you to know that I value yours as well. I'm here for you if you need me." Charles wanted to say so much more. To confess his guilt, offer his repentance, atone for his lack of involvement and his ignorance. But that was his ego. And not what Remy needed. He was determined to be the rock which Remy could anchor to in a storm. To be there for him now like he should have been then.

Remy paused, regarding the statement, searching for the hidden meanings, for the catch as he slowly pulled on his trenchcoat. When he couldn't find any, he looked to the Professor. He sat there, in his wheelchair, with a pleasant, almost hopeful, expression on his face. It was genuine. He could feel the warm sentiments like a warm summer breeze. A small smile brightened his face.

"You don' know what dat means ta me, Professor." Remy stood and extended his hand. Charles grasped his hand ebulliently, cupping his left hand over top, shaking heartily.

"Please, Remy. Call me Charles."

"C'n I call ya Chuck?"

"Don't push it, my friend. Don't push it."


	6. Before the Storm

Note: _Translated from French >_

* * *

The hanger bay was buzzing with more activity than it had seen in a long time. The Blackbird, and both mini jets, were primed and ready to go. Hank and Rachel flitted back and forth between the three transports, checking and rechecking base output levels, synchronizing telemeter frequencies, testing the newly encoded genetic scanners and generally hovering like mother hens over their chicks the first time out of the nest box. On the far side of the hanger Ororo, Warren and Scott were hunched over a wide table engaged in fine tuning the details of the mission. The ruckus emanating from the corridor announced the arrival of Bobby, Jubilee, Paige and Rahne.

Jean Paul dropped the last case of emergency supplies at the foot of the mini jet's ramp then turned away from the commotion, strolling towards the enormous opening of the newly expanded hanger bay to be alone with his thoughts. He sighed contentedly at the landscape before him. The sky stretching out across the rolling hillsides was a clear, crystal blue, perfect for flying. The sun had yet to reach it's zenith in the sky. It would still be early morning when he reached the Oregon coast.

_It'll be foggy,_ he thought to himself. He'd be crossing four time zones repeatedly today. He was glad to be going, though, he detested the reasons why. The X-men always seemed to find the most spectacular missions; saving the world from maniacal madmen, rescuing beautiful, alien damsels in distress on alien worlds, hopping through dimensions and defeating dark lords like it was child's play. But the most heinous, most vile missions always seemed to find them too. This was sizing up to be one of latter.

"Beau jour, non?" Remy strolled silently up from behind, admiring the pastoral scene before them. He took a long drag of his cigarette, enjoying what he could of it before he had to board the jet. He exhaled a cloud of smoke as a soft breeze caught it, whisking it away. Jean Paul glanced back at the Cajun, with his usual, sharply annoyed expression. He wrinkled his nose as he caught the fetid scent.

"That is a disgusting habit. Why not give it up already?">

"Because, it annoys you."> Remy replied with a small smirk and a sly sideward glance.

"I'm flattered." > Jean Paul twisted his lips into a sarcastic little grin. " Asshole."> Even the insults sounded eloquent coming from Jean Paul.

Remy chuckled. Their playful banter masked his fears, and Jean Paul's trepidation. He actually enjoyed Jean Paul's caustic humor and found his company quite refreshing. Everyone else still found him irritating at best; rude, pretentious and obnoxious at worst. That was most likely why they got along so well. And when they spoke French it irritated everyone that much more. Even the most mundane of their conversations sounded like scathing invectives when accompanied by his smirk and Jean Paul's sneer. It was actually quite an amusing pastime.

They stood in comfortable silence, the peaceful scenery providing temporary solace from the big bad world. Remy took a last drag from his cigarette, slightly charged the butt and flicked it over the edge. The small 'pop' of it's demise barely audible.

Jean Paul focused far off in the distance, "How bad do you think it will be?"> his tone turning uncharacteristically somber.

Remy slowly turned to look at him. His thoughts were churning in a different direction altogether; toward himself, his reaction, his fears. Then, he felt a sudden twinge of guilt. _Am I really that shallow? _He closed his eyes, remorseful, trying to focus on Jean Paul's all too poignant query.

"There were no bodies in the pictures. If that's what you mean."> Remy knew that Jean Paul had seen death many times during his tenure with Alpha Flight. His sudden mood swing seemed out of character.

Another pensive few minutes passed between them. From over their shoulders, boisterous laughter heralded the arrival of Logan and Kurt to the hanger. They were amused about something. Rogue and Kitty weren't far behind, their light banter echoing just as clearly in the voluminous space as Kurt and Logan's guffaws. They'd be leaving on the mission soon.

Jean Paul dipped his head, eyes closed. "I have a problem with children."> He let go a small sigh, letting the weight of the disturbing thought travel with it. Remy was confused. He had never seen his friend so morose.

"No kidding." > A humorless chuckle accompanied the statement. After all, he was the least liked teacher the school had ever seen.

Jean Paul's face momentarily twisted into a scowl emphasized by a small jerk of his head. He took a deep breath. Then another, quelling the brief flush of anger.

"No, I mean dead children. I don't handle that so well."> Remy did not know. And it had been a long time since Jean Paul thought of his little Joanne, his precious little girl. The look of her tiny face as she labored for breath. The sound of his shattering heart as she fell silent and still in his arms.

Remy watched the painful emotions play across Jean Paul's face, felt his struggle for control of them.

_Way to go, idiot_. He did not know the child that haunted the man's memories so, but he empathized on levels unknown to everyone except himself. He would correct his insensitivity the only way he knew how.

"Who can? No one should have to."> Remy's words were warm and soothing, their kindness and heartfelt sympathy wrapping around Jean Paul like a quilt on a cold winter's night. Remy placed a supportive arm across Jean Paul's shoulders. The tension in the shorter man melted away as his head relaxed to Remy's shoulder of its own accord, his grief fading back into memory.

They regarded each other warmly for a long moment. Both knowing they just exposed their soft underbellies, but satisfied that the other could be trusted with the secret knowledge.

They both shook with silent chuckles. They knew, with full awareness, the rumors their intimate gesture would generate. Most likely from Rogue who was, in all probability, staring holes in the back of their heads at this very moment.

"Dis is gonna be good fo', what, t'ree, four months of laughs?" Remy smiled.

"At least." Jean Paul agreed.

They broke their embrace with a laugh and turned around only to find the eyes of the entire team on them. The bay would have been dead silent if not for the faint mechanical sounds of the warming jet engines and the hanger's exhaust system. Most of their teammates had the discretion to avert their eyes just as the two turned around. Rogue, Jubilee and Paige, though, were frozen mid stare. Jubilee's jaw actually hung open. Wide open.

"Guess it gonna be a bit longer den a few months, eh?" Remy noted, his humor rapidly drying in his throat.

"You think?" the sarcasm returning to Jean Paul's voice with a vengence.

"Jean Paul..." Scott waved him over to his makeshift conference table.

"Saved by the boy scout."> Remy crooned the words sugary sweet.

"Bastard."> Jean Paul mumbling under his breath as he walked away. He was just thankful Remy didn't blow him a kiss to complete his taunt.

Jean Paul joined Scott just as Ororo and Warren were turning to gather their teams. Warren tried to steal Paige away from Jubilee, but neither was having any of it. He went as far as to stand between them, scooting Jubilee away from Paige, in the direction of her own team. Parting the two was beginning to resemble surgery lately; sort of like separating Siamese twins attached at the hip. Remy lent a hand by rounding up the boisterous Asian girl with a quick tug on the lapel of her oversized yellow trenchcoat. Thankfully, her inhuman thirst for gossip overrode her need to aimlessly run at the mouth. She seized the opportunity to press Remy for 'all the details' on his new found relationship with Jean Paul, following him aboard the mini jet with a vague wave in Paige's direction. Remy just rolled his eyes as he boarded, stabbing an index finger to his temple, hoping Warren realized what he just did for him.

Emma, Jono and Tessa entered the hanger deep in silent, mental conversation, with Danielle tagging along as fourth wheel. Hank caught up to them from across the hanger, a backpack draped over his shoulder and a small GPS unit in the other which he offered to Tessa. She took the devise and began programming it without once glancing at its keypad.

They joined Scott and Jean Paul.

"Dani, are you sure you're OK with this? I mean you know how these kids can get." Scott's concern was clearly evident by the tone. Dani smirked, flipping one unruly braid behind her, hand planted on her hip.

"Please, Scott. You won't be gone that long. I'll be fine."

"Well, just in case, Charles will be here as well as Cecilia and..."

"I'm more than capable of babysitting for a few hours while you're gone." Dani hardened the words, a bit perturbed at Scott's fatherly concern. _What am I? Thirteen? Does he really have so little faith in my ability to manage the school in his absence?_

"We chose you for a reason, my dear," Emma broke in with a confident smile, "I'm counting on you to continue the assimilation of our newest students while we are gone. I left their files on my desk, along with a schedule of activities for the next three days. I have need of your unique abilities to access their powers in the Danger Room. And provide a full report." Emma's expression lacked the usual superiority she always seems to radiate when giving orders to her employees. Dani had to take inventory of what her senses were telling her. The look, the tone, the almost warm regard, addressing her almost as an equal?

_Emma trusts me?_ Dani resisted the smile that threatened to curl her lips. Just in case Emma was playing some new kind of game where she ended up humiliated in the end.

"I'd be glad to, Emma." Dani returned the blond's confident smile, then turned it to Scott adding sarcasm with a tilt of her head and a leer.

Tessa handed the GPS unit to Scott, who perused its programming, as Hank offered the backpack to Jean Paul.

"There are two scanners. One for measuring elevated neurochemical bio signatures and the other for residual transdimensional displacements." Hank explained. Jean Paul quirked an eyebrow at McCoy, his eyes narrowing to slits. Hank just shook his head with a rustling of his ample mane. "One traces telepathic signatures, the other teleporters. Just press the big red button, the scanners will do the rest." Jean Paul quirked both eyebrows at McCoy, a sneer creeping across his lips. Hank returned the sneered mockingly. The effect of his fuzzy blue muzzle retracting around his sizable canines looked much more disturbing than the withering looks Jean Paul had mastered. "And the GPS is locked onto the coordinates of the derelict ship. Daedelus wasn't too positive about them so we broadened the search area and included the shoreline with calculations accounting for tides and weather conditions over the last six weeks." Hank instructed.

"Don't tell me. Just press the big red button marked 'idiot' and the thing will work." Jean Paul snapped back.

"OK. That's enough.' Scott was really feeling more like a referee on the school playground these past few weeks. After this mission was resolved, he was granting shore leave. His team had been cooped up with the kids for too long. "The GPS outlines your flight plan but it will probably be superceded by our findings on site. Just keep your com open." Scott slapped the GPS into Jean Paul's hand and looked to Emma, her face again unreadable, though her thoughts were still churning. "Are we ready?" he asked with a knowing glance.

"Let's get this over with." Emma turned with a dramatic flair of her cape to board the Blackbird.


	7. I Got A Bad Feeling About This

**Thirty two miles S/SE of Carrizozo, New Mexico**

The Blackbird streaked toward its destination; Los Lobos Calamitoso, an abandoned missile base deep in the Chihuahuan desert. A secret defense installation during the Cold War, it now silently baked away in the desert sun, a bleak reminder of simpler times when humans drew lines in the sand based on political agendas and ideological differences. A fitting refuge for the Lost Souls, Spirit Clan of the Neo. Daedelus had called this place home since the day of his birth.

From the air, the installation looked like little more than a handful of abandoned buildings with remnants of a small landing strip. Cyclops brought the Blackbird down to rest smoothly in the desert sand, close to the main cluster of buildings. Beast took a few quick preliminary readings.

"No life forms, other than local fauna. But, I believe the majority of our search will be conducted underground. I am reading a base that runs at least a mile below, both vertically and horizontally."

Cyclops lowered the ramp as the team moved into their positions with a fluid efficency only achieved through years of repetition.

"Bobby." Beast tossed an liter bottle of water at his friend, a long strap fastened to its neck "Zero humidity, 94 degrees and climbing."

"What would I do without you, Hank?" Iceman smiled back, draping the bottle over a shoulder and across his chest. _Why am I such an idiot? _Bobby asked himself, not for the first time. He knew he would never have remembered to bring it himself, until it was too late to do anything about it. After more than a few harrowing experiences, he should have been more aware. _Iceman in the desert - duh - bring water stupid! _At some point wasn't there supposed to be an instinct, or something, for self preservation that would remind him of these things? He was still waiting, impatiently, for it to find him.

Wolverine took point, weaving his way between buildings, studying the ground and, sniffing the air to no avail. If there were signs of the attack above ground, they had been scoured clean by six weeks of wind blown sand.

"Cyke, I got nothin'." Wolverine pronounced over the com.

"Beast, do we have an entrance, or do we make one?" Cyclops looked back as Beast and Shadowcat tapped thoughtfully at their scanners.

"Ten yards ahead to the right, there's an energy source." Shadowcat directed.

She led them to a small bunker with solar panels jutting from the roof. Kitty stepped inside, disappearing into the inky shadows. A minute later, the sound of gears grinding to life with a squeal of metal against metal. A blast of stale air erupted from the missile silo, it's bay doors moaning in protest as they painstakingly withdrew from one another in the desert floor.

"I guess we go down." Iceman peered over the edge of the gaping crater, sand cascading around his feet.

Wolverine took the lead, descending a worn steel ladder into the depths below. For all his senses all that came to him were the scents, and sounds, of his teammates. Beast was sweating something fierce in the desert heat. Iceman was mumbling something to himself under his breath. Emma was strung tight as a bow, unrelenting levels of stress hormones saturating the air about her. Cyclops was in full command mode, by the scent of sweat infused with that odd, metallic tang he acquired when leading his team into battle. Shadowcat was putting on her game face, adrenaline just starting to kick her into gear. He reached the ground floor and took up a defensive posture until his teammates were safely grounded.

Beast handed out flashlights before he and Shadowcat began surveying the space, scanners in hand. It was apparent this would be little more than a fact retrieval mission. It quickly became apparent that the base was deserted.

As they tracked through the narrow, corrugated steel tunnels they formulated a clearer picture of how this particular Neo clan lived. What were once conference rooms and offices now served as living quarters cluttered with scraps of salvaged furniture, bits and pieces of personal belongings. Outdated machinery from decades before stood side by side, and in stark contrast to, sleek, cutting edge technology that peaked even Beast's interest. They wound their way through more tunnels and passageways before finally nearing the heart of the installation.

Wolverine was suddenly stopped in his tracks by a familiar odor, it's heavy scent washing through his senses with a faint hint of revulsion. The heavy scent of decay, decomposition. He raised one hand to halt his teammates as he sniffed the air, discerning the possible source. _Good, it's not bodies. _He lowered his hand, relieved, and continued on.

"Whoever attacked 'em caught 'em at dinnertime." Wolverine reported as they neared a four way intersection. Beast directed them to the right just after Wolverine, following his nose, made the turn. They passed through a mess hall with plates of half eaten food covering the tables, in the kitchen large pots sat on the stoves their contents rotting. The electric burners were still on when the power was cut.

The mess hall led to a short passageway that opened into a large room, cavernous, judging by the echo of their footfalls. Beast and Shadowcat examined a few computer stations and settled at a console, apparently hardwired to its own power source.. In mere minutes they had restored power to the base.

As the lights came up, the Xmen were astounded by the site before them. What had once been the control center for the missile base now resembled a technological holocaust version of a pagan temple. Every wall and ceiling surface was adorned with intricately painted murals of some unknown epic battle. Sculptures made from bits and pieces of metal, wire and plastic, both abstract and eerily realistic in form, lined the walls. Sophisticated electronics blended with arcane artifacts around a central circle painted onto the cracked and faded linoleum tile floor. The entire space permeated by a sweet, herbal scent that still hung thick and lush in the air.

Beast and Shadowcat sat down at facing terminals and began tapping away at the keyboards. The Lost Soul's maintained an extensive computer network, but the main computer core had been dumped to an unspecified server at some point during the battle. It was a desperate fail safe maneuver to protect the system, but the download was incomplete.

"We're going to have to hack it." Shadowcat announced with a sly glance in Beast's direction. The good Doctor returned her look with a smile, taking up her silent challenge. Nothing spurred a hacker on like competition. The pair settled into their seats, attempting to breach what was left of the Neo's protected systems. Cyclops smirked, it was good to see his team enjoying themselves.

"Fan out people. Let's see what we find." Cyclops directed Emma to his right, Iceman and Wolverine flanked to the left.

"Scorching over here, Cyke. Fire fight." Iceman noted as he took a long pull from his bottle of water.

"Here, too." Cyclops confirmed.

Wolverine closed his eyes tight in an effort to wade through the massive overload of scents clinging to this place. Tangled amidst the sweet aroma were lingering traces of dozens of people. Most overwhelmingly pungent, vast quantities of stress hormones that hadn't yet fully dissipated in the stagnant air. The battle was definitely here.

Emma moved to the head of the room, centered her thoughts and, with a small amount of trepidation, preceded to scan the area telepathically. The unexpected psychic static she encountered caused her to wince. A myriad of strong psionic impressions purposely left in the heat of battle volleyed through her mind.

"The Neo had telepaths. Several of them." She put a hand to her temple, attempting to sort through the psychic clutter and focus on the relevant bits of information. The telepaths of this clan left psychic fingerprints even a novice would have been able to detect.

"Any traces of our telepath?" Cyclops regarded her closely, watching for signs of distress.

Emma just barely shook her head, negative. The impressions she was receiving were confusing. The most recent events were, naturally, the most persistent, the most vocal, but there were many other layers of psychic data humming steadily in the background. She focused on the information deeply imbedded in the heart of this place, the focal center of the Lost Soul's faith. They wove a rich, thick tapestry of images that sung to her like a chorus, luring her into their depths.

"I need to see this place in the Astral," Emma pronounced, settling herself into a dusty, overstuffed chair in the middle of the room.

"Cyke." Wolverine called from the other side of the room. He stood in front of a massive statue, nestled into an alcove, its features obscured in shadow. "You gotta see this."

Iceman and Cyclops both joined him just as he raised his flashlight, illuminating the length of the metallic icon. The massive figure bore a crook in one hand, a flail in the other, upon its' head the combined crown of the asp and the vulture, the symbols of Egyptian deities come to rule on earth. And there was no mistaking the countenance. Cyclops went rigid, the fight-or-flight response dumping adrenaline into his system instinctively at the sight.

The gleaming metal statue was of En Sabah Nuhr. The Neo were paying homage to Apocalypse.

**

* * *

The industrial outskirts of Cheyenne, Wyoming**

Storm brought the mini jet in from the south, looping it back around from the west. Combined with the low trajectory, the tactic would hopefully mask their arrival to the industrial wastelands languishing north-east of downtown Cheyenne. Vast tracts of cyclone fenced warehouses, belching smoke stacks and steady streams of big rigs hauling freight to and fro painted a dismal landscape; the unseemly underbelly of modern society. Here, in a long abandoned chemical plant astride a defunct strip of railroad, nestled amid the remnants of urban decay, the Shockwave Riders chose to make their clan stronghold.

The Neo boys knew little of this clan. The scant information Domina had provided them did little more than direct the Xmen to their last known whereabouts, colored with some sketchy history. The Shockwave Riders were the largest of the five clans, yet more secretive than even the Stealth Clan. They were known as the Justice Clan of the Neo, though they were no longer regarded as such. Originally the judge, jury and executioners in all interclan disputes, their role quickly devolved into that of interclan messengers, information merchants and hoarders of clan lore as the clans segregated early in their history. By Domina's account, they were paranoid to the point of delusion. Although, now it would seem, they may have been justified.

Storm brought the jet down in the central yard of the complex, camouflaging it amid pipelines, smoke stacks and storage vats. As she lowered the ramp, an acrid breeze wafted into the jet, sending all but Jono into a coughing fit. Their burning lungs protesting the chemical intrusion. Storm immediately called up a stiff wind from the north to whisk the offensive air away.

"Jubilee, scanners, if you please." Storm handed the backpack to the girl as she strode down the ramp, her white locks and cape whipping in the sudden wind.

Jubilee was about to begin complaining but stopped herself short. Storm was trusting her to gather the data for Beast. That would mean she would have to prepare the reports, attend the meetings, help with the analysis and provide the team with her opinions. Slacker, mall rat Jubes grated at the long, mind numbing prospects. But the kid-that-wanted-to-play-grown-up for so long recognized the implications immediately. Only trusted, experienced, members of the team were handed this level of responsibility. The realization finally, fully, dawned on her. Storm had just handed her a promotion. Slowly, she smiled wide and began digging through the pack as she followed her teammates down the ramp.

Storm willed the gusting northerly winds to dissipate, the debris whipped up in its passing fluttered down to litter the ground once more. As her team fanned out behind her, Jubilee was already tapping away at a scanner. The maze like structure of the chemical plant loomed around them like a sleeping, mechanized goliath.

"Gambit, take point. If this clan was as paranoid as the Neo boys would have us believe then there are bound to be some unorthodox security measures in place. Nightcrawler, if you could take the high ground and find us a suitable entrance."

Her team snapped to their tasks. Nightcrawler disappeared in a billow of sulfurous smoke, reappearing high atop the girders of the plant's superstructure. Gambit took to the steel lined walkways adjacent the main building, his crimson eyes warily scanning the path before him. Colossus fell into step with Storm, looking very much like a hired bodyguard and feeling just as useful. Jono hung back, his gaze a million miles away.

"Storm, I'm tryin' here but I'm getting a lot of static. I think there's too much machinery around to get a clear reading on this thing." The frustration was clearly evident in Jubilee's voice. _Great, my first time out and I'm blowin' it. _Jubilee smacked the side of her scanner in the vague hope it had a wire loose. Or maybe it was just trying to spite her and needed to be taught a lesson.

Storm paused, clearing her thoughts, refocusing her senses. The entire structure hummed with a static electrical charge. She had seen this phenomenon before. The effect could have been caused meteorologically but, more likely, it was a side effect from the use of certain mutant powers. Her shoulders tensed as the unsettling thought coalesced; the amount of power necessary to charge this entire complex was staggering and the implication, foreboding.

"This place is alive with electromagnetic energy." Storm reassured the frustrated girl. "Perhaps we will have better luck once inside. Everyone, stay alert."

Gambit passed his team leader a concerned look. If she felt the need to remind them to keep their eyes open then something had her worried. As always, Storm radiated confidence and determination but also a hint of apprehension. He returned to his task, sharpening his focus, a bit more wary in response to her unexplained reaction. Tense minutes passed as they made their way through the complex.

"Dis is jus' too strange." Gambit stopped up ahead, kneeling down beside a small rift in a metal panel along the wall, his fingers carefully tracing its edges. "Dere be plen'y a nasty surprises wired t' dis place, but dey all rigged de wrong way. Pressure plates, motion sensors, good ol' fashion trip wires. I'm guessin' dey all wired to a central system. But dey all rigged to blow as we leavin'. I ain't even seen so much as a security camera." Gambit looked back to Storm, vexed by his findings.

"The best mousetrap snaps shut after the mouse is already inside." Colossus proclaimed sounding very much like the voice of certain doom.

"Well, if they are wired to a central system, we may be able to disarm them once we are inside." Storm offered the alternative, already knowing it was a longshot at best.

As the team discussed their approach, Jono kicked mindlessly at the dirt under his boots. Staring blankly, he replayed this morning's conversation with Emma in his mind. He still wasn't sure what Emma expected of him.

'_ow am I supposed to find somethin' that isn't there? If she can't bloody well find dis bird then 'ow am I supposed to do it? _He didn't possess the telepathic disciplines necessary for this mission and Emma was well aware of that fact. _Wot de 'ell does she want from me? _

As he unsuccessfully tried to make sense of something that seemed so senseless, his pensive stare suddenly snapped into sharp focus. He quirked his head at the realization that the ground was black. And not just filthy black. He spun slowly around in a circle. The steel walkways, the pipes disappearing into the ground, the abandoned vehicles littering the compound, all black. He slowly tilted his head back, eyes scanning upward. The undersides of the overhead walkways, the pipelines, all carbonized by some sort of blast from below. Black streaks feathering up the sides of beams and pipework like soot from a candlewick left burning too long. Spinning again in an exaggerated circle, the troubling evidence seemed to extend in a wide radius that engulfed the entire central yard.

_Uh, Storm. Mebbe you wanna take a look at this. _Jono mentally alerted his team as he swiped a finger through the powdery black coating along a beam, offering it to Storm for her inspection as his eyes again traveled upward. The team's eyes followed suit, the light of recognition flaring in them. They had seen this before. In the satellite images from this morning's briefing.

"Oh shit." Jubilee mumbled, always the master of understatement.

"Storm" Nightcrawler called over the com. "I found our door."

**

* * *

En route to The Pacific Ocean, eighteen nautical miles SW of Astoria, Oregon**

Northstar streaked across the plains of the American heartland, slowing down just enough to enjoy the crystal clear skies and the crisp spring air rolling down from Canada. Chasing the sunrise was always a pleasure in a purely aesthetic sense. The colors were vivid in the dawning light, the landscape racing by below him relatively serene. He left the hanger bay in Westchester fifteen minutes after the jets had departed and he would still be at the Oregon coastline fifteen minutes before the Blackbird reached its destination in New Mexico.

As he closed in on the Cascade Mountains, he slowed to make a pitstop, rechecking his coordinates. Choosing a known landmark, he touched down on the summit of Mount Hood, retrieving the GPS unit from his backpack. The coastline loomed grey and dreary far in the distance.

_I knew it was going to be foggy. _He mumbled a few curses, as the GPS homed in on his target location. The weather would not aid in his search.

Why the Neo chose a ship to house their clan was still a mystery he couldn't fathom. The Goth were the smallest Neo clan and the boys spoke of them with uncharacteristically solemn respect. They were known as the Sigil Clan. Their secretive, arcane reputation used to instill fear into the hearts of unruly Neo children. Daedelus was the only one to actually meet a Goth, and all he could report was that 'the guy was creepy'. Considering Northstar's growing reputation among the students at the Institute, it was oddly apropos that it was he sent to search for this enigmatic clan.

Moments later, Northstar hovered over the rocky coastline, the ocean waves roaring in their continuous assault on the shore. The search was going to be nearly impossible in this dense curtain of mist. He perched on a high outcropping just off the beach, again checking the GPS, and the time. It was barely 7am Pacific time. The sun wouldn't burn off this layer of fog until almost midday.

He sighed in resignation. The search along the coastline might prove more fruitful until the skies cleared enough for the ocean recon. He took off heading south.

Just as Beast had predicted, he began seeing greasy, foamy trails of flotsam and jetsam clinging to the rocky shores. Scattered pieces of debris bobbed helplessly in the surf as stringy globs of oil lodged among the rocks. He flew in closer, seeing little he could retrieve as evidence.

Just around a pointed jetty emerged a protected, sea worn cove. It's small, secluded stretch of sand proving more promising. He landed high on the tiny beach, a swathe of jetsam hugging the high water line. He kicked through the debris, the sharp odor of diesel fuel fouling the air.

He was about to take to the air again as a glint of something caught his eye. He prodded through more debris with a sneer of disgust as he approached a particularly foul smelling heap draped in broken strands of kelp. From just under the pile, again the glint of something metallic, a small beacon light flashing weakly against the dense tarp. He swallowed hard, the recognition of the offensive odor causing his breath to hitch in his throat. Closing his eyes, he turned his head to the side, inhaling deeply as he prepared himself for the sight that he knew awaited him. He grabbed the edges of the battered fabric and hoisted it aside in one fluid motion.

The stench assaulting his senses was only fractionally worse than the sight. He turned his back, stomach rebelling, threatening to purge its contents. He choked back nausea through pure force of will. When he regained his composure, he steeled his nerves and slowly turned back around.

The sea had not been kind to the corpses that lay, battered and broken, on the sand. The bloated bodies were in various stages of decay, invertebrates feasting on the unexpected bounty. Once again his stomach rebelled and again he forced it into reticent submission. The pair looked to have once been a young woman and, still clutched tightly in her grasp, a child, perhaps five or six years old by the size of the half exposed skull. Tatters of black clothing clung to their bodies and the delicate black patterns that adorned the remains of the young women's arms and half of her face must have been tattoos. Draped at her side lay a metallic canister the size of camp bedroll, a keypad panel of dim green lights in its center, and two halogen beacon lights at either end, blinking tenaciously with their dying breath. It looked very much like this mother and child had given their lives to preserve this simple object.

Again, Northstar clamped his eyes shut, turning his face into the wind, sucking in a deep breath to bolster his flagging resolve. He opened his eyes and quickly reached to unhook the container's strap from its guardian's grasp before his nerve deserted him. The clasp, thankfully, snapped free and he tugged at the canister but the strap snagged somewhere under the corpses. He gave another sharp pull, the strap hesitated but then broke free. With it, the child's head rolled free of the shoulders to land in the wet sand with a sickening 'splat'.

Northstar conceded the battle, his stomach purging its contents violently onto the sand. Tears freely streaming down his face as he heaved over and over again.

**

* * *

Forty miles S/SE of Bridgeport, Alabama**

Angel brought the mini jet down on a deforested bluff overlooking an abandoned strip mine. It was the closest, most accessible, landing site to their target location just over two miles away. Just over the bluff, the Tennessee River meandered lazily southward. He reviewed the site map and the satellite photos one more time before moving his team into action.

"This site still shows clear signs of a fight so I want everyone frosty. No slacking." Angel commanded as his team gathered behind him.

"No fair takin' pot shots at Bobby when he ain't here to defend himself, Ange." Rogue quipped with a laugh and a playful smile. Angel whipped around, his annoyed expression clearly stating that he was unamused at the ill timed joke. Her expression immediately soured in response.

"Paige, Rahne, you're on scanners," Angel directed as he turned back to peruse the console one last time. He dropped the aft ramp, his team exiting the craft and assembling at the edge of the bluff.

"Rogue," the moody team leader called over his shoulder. She turned to join him at the head console. This was just a simple recon mission, nothing for him to be so tense about. She slipped a gloved hand past his wing, resting it firmly on his shoulder.

"Warren, what is it? Why you so nervous, hon?"

"Rogue, I want you to keep an eye on Paige." He leveled his voice, trying to make the request sound like a mere directive from her team leader. Rogue wasn't fooled, she shook her head as she deciphered what she believed to be his true intent.

"She's a big girl, more than capable of fendin' for herself in a fight, if it goes that way. She wouldn't be wearin' the 'X' if she couldn't." Usually it was Angel who handed out this speech, or his version of it anyway. How many times had he derided Gambit for being unworthy of the uniform after she pulled the Cajun's fat outta the fire yet again.

He turned to her, eyes almost pleading. "Rogue, I'm team leader. It would be inappropriate for me to show favoritism by hovering over her shoulder. Not to mention, she'd smack me if she caught me doing it. Please, just promise me you'll watch over her?"

She regarded him for a moment then smiled warmly. She kissed her gloved fingertips, transferring the gesture to his cheek. She envied Paige at that moment. "Ah'll take care a her. Ah promise."

"Thank you." He placed a quick peck on the back of her gloved hand, offering her a weak smile.

They joined the team on the bluff overlooking the crumbling remains of the manmade cliff face. It resembled a poorly healed scar, it's edges jagged and frayed, a permanent reminder of a wound that may have healed, but would never truly go away.

"There are cave systems throughout this area. It seems the Stealth Clan literally went underground." Angel began handing out marching orders. " When we reach the site, Cannonball, you'll take point. Your mining experience might come in handy. Everyone else, stay close." He then scooped Husk into his arms, took two long strides and launched off the cliff, his broad white wings catching an updraft as they soared higher. Sam blasted off in close pursuit. Marvel Girl and Rogue looked between each other then to Wolfsbane.

"Ye know I 'ate to fly." Wolfsbane nervously regarded her friends. She knew she would be perfectly safe with either of them, but that still didn't squelch the sinking feeling in her stomach. She turned to Rogue. "C'n I hold on?" The usually ferocious wolf girl looked positively sheepish as she approached.

Rogue smiled wide, turned her back and crouched down a bit. Wolfsbane wrapped herself around her piggy back style and the trio was off to catch up to their teammates.

The short flight along the Tennessee River was pleasant enough, though Angel barely noticed it. He was still troubled by the conflicting information Scott had on these Crimson Pirates. In the Xmen's experience, they were slave traders; cold, ruthless and driven by profit. But the picture Friction painted of his life as one of them was more like the mutant version of Robin of Sherwood. In his world, the Crimson Pirates were known as the Stealth Clan of the Neo, the clan the others turned to when someone had to disappear, or when something hidden needed to be found. They were infiltrators, corporate spies, mutant-powered black ops, the rebuilders of lives and the destroyers of paper trails. Capable of making anyone or anything vanish without a trace. They worked as mercs, thieves and babysitters for Neo run afoul of the law. Their pleasure in life came from proving themselves by taking up and conquering ever bigger and riskier challenges. And when the issue of slave trading was broached, Friction simply continued extolling the virtues of his clan.

There was something about jumping to the rescue of mutants of such dubious intent that made Angel's skin crawl. He tucked the thought away as they approached their destination.

Dense forest sheltered a rocky precipice jutting from the hillside, the time worn entrance of a natural cave blending perfectly into the surroundings. The terrain was most definitely disturbed, massive trees uprooted, others with splintered trunks and still more broken and burnt. The Xmen touched down just outside the cave, the coarse soil crunching under their boots. Footprints scattered in every direction, spent shell casings littered the site in surprising quantities.

As Wolfsbane dropped to the ground, she immediately assumed her feral form, hackles bristling, lips curling into a sneer. Something wasn't right. She sniffed the air and listened intently. Something beyond her senses was alerting her to a danger she couldn't identify. A low growl of frustration escaped her throat as she paced along the tree line, her amber eyes staring deep into the forest trying to identify the source of her irritation.

"Wolfsbane, you have something?" Marvel Girl asked as she telepathically scanned the immediate vicinity for surface thoughts sensing nothing.

"I don't know. I just feel wrong." Wolfsbane resumed her human form, suspiciously eyeing the terrain as she retrieved her scanner.

Husk was already surveying the battle site. "I think this thing is broken. These readings can't be right."

Angel and Marvel Girl hovered over her shoulders. The bio signature readings were off the scale. She took the readings twice more with the same results.

"Can't send a machine to do a Marvel Girl's work." She smirked, centering herself to psionically rescan the area, narrowing her focus, feeling for the rippling energies left in the wake of telepathic energy expenditures. The sensation she was rewarded with was anything but pleasant. She gasped aloud, stumbling back a few paces as she slammed her psychic shields shut.

Rogue rushed to her side but was waved off. "I'm fine. I was looking for a whisper and found a roar." Marvel Girl rubbed lightly at her temple. "If this is Emma's telepath, I can see why she's freaking out." She glanced back to Husk and Angel. "I think you're readings are right. Our telepath was here."

"Angel!" Cannonball beckoned from just inside the cave entrance. As the team leader walked in his direction, the shadowed outlines of machinery came into view. Just inside the shadows, machine gun batteries sat broken and strewn across the rocky floor, discarded toys in a sea of shell casings.

"They weren't foolin' around." Cannonball scratched his head as he looked around. "This is sick." Two cannon sized guns were imbedded in the ceiling of the cave, one with it's barrel exploded, the other crushed in on itself and fused solid. "I got a bad feeling about this."

Husk and Wolfsbane continued their scans, following invisible traces of energy, Rogue lingering just behind them. Husk caught a sudden energy spike from just inside the tree line and bolted off in pursuit of the fleeting reading. Just as she darted out of sight, a sharp yelp echoed off the trees.

Rogue rocketed into the woods only to find Husk on her ass, sunk up to her elbows in mud. The edge of the small crater she was walking along had unexpectedly given way, sending the girl tumbling. Rogue laughed out loud at the blonde's misfortune as Angel streaked to the site, near panic in his eyes. He shot Rogue a hard look as he reached to extract his lover from the mud.

"Are you ok, sugah?" Rogue giggled.

"Paige, are you ok? Do you feel alright? Maybe you should wait back on the jet." Sure Angel was worried about her but this was overkill, even for him.

"Warren, I'm fine. The only thing hurt is my pride." Husk looked at Rogue with a smirk. "Glad to amuse you, 'sugah'." Rogue just giggled even more.

Marvel Girl, Wolfsbane and Cannonball all converged on the site, laughs breaking out all around. But as the teammates bantered back and forth, Marvel Girl began walking the edge of the crater Paige had been mired in. The edges were smooth and regular. The base was a solid flat plain albeit a bit muddy. She hovered just above the depression. It was perfectly round, a matching depression sat just ten feet away. She took to the air, above the treetops . The trees directly behind the depressions were broken and crushed as if under an enormous weight. The pattern imbedded in foliage vaguely resembled a human with arms outstretched. A green and brown snow angel on a gargantuan scale.

Marvel Girl cupped a hand to her mouth as her memories pulled forth an image like a puzzle piece to be fitted into a larger picture presented by the evidence She returned to her teammates, the seriousness of her expression halting their jovial moment. Again, she looked between the depressions, wishing her conclusion was wrong but knowing all too well that it wasn't.

"Sentinels." She half whispered the abhorrent word.


	8. Tripping the Alarm

Chapter 8 will be posted in four installments - each one just long enough to post alone but together just too long for a single post.

* * *

"What the flamin' hell is this thing doin' here?" Wolverine grumbled, more than a little pissed off to be staring, face to face, with Apocalypse again, even if only in effigy. He was beginning to like these Neo even less than he already did. Cyclops' intense reaction wasn't helping his mood any either.

"What does this mean?" Iceman stared blankly at the metal figure then turned to study the other statues lining the room more closely. "I mean, were the Neo head of his fan club or something?"

Cyclops stood transfixed in front of the image of his worst nightmare. The ghastly, grinning face leering out from beyond the grave, mocking him still. His fists balled up tight at his sides, his muscles quaking with irrational anger. He struggled to restrain the torrent of emotion as it threatened to overtake him. Wolverine felt Cyclops' rage welling to the surface and took several cautious steps back.

_Fuck you! Never again!_ The scream in Cyclops head found a voice as he let loose a wide crimson force beam, holding nothing back, granting his violent urges a quick but devastating release. Unlike the mutant the statue portrayed, it had no defenses against Cyclops' unleashed fury. Molten metal oozed from the edges of what used to be the head of the hated icon, vaporized by the ruby blast, a smoldering crater in the wall behind.

Shadowcat and Beast snapped up at the sudden outburst, seeing that Wolverine calmly stood a few feet away from their perturbed leader, obviously unfazed by his reaction. Beast assessed the situation for a few moments taking note that Emma hadn't even acknowledged the ruckus. His eyes carefully scanned the room once more before he resettled himself at the console. He glanced up in his competitors direction and strangely enough, instead of the look of concern he expected to see, Shadowcat was already intently refocused on her task at hand, a contented little smirk on her face.

* * *

Emma vaguely acknowledged the wave of anger that rippled through her link with Scott. But it quickly dissipated. He wasn't in danger, so she pressed on. As her shimmering astral form approached the huge gleaming orb that embodied the Spirit Clan's astral sanctuary, a deep thrumming filled her head like a massive heartbeat set to its own rhythm. Carried upon the pulsating tone, the beckoning whispers of a thousand phantom voices, calling her to them. As she inched closer to its surface, making out figures and faces just beyond the swirling, transparent skin, images layered on top of one another like a giant onion wrapped around an impenetrable central core. The energy and dedication needed to construct this massive archive on the Astral Plane simply defied comprehension. And she took only passing interest in it. The voices were calling.

* * *

"I recognize some of these statues." Iceman announced into the air as he examined the effigies along the east wall. " This one is Gideon. Over here is Selene." He pointed towards the head of the room, a life size replica of an attractive blonde perched on a marble pedestal. "I think that one is supposed to be Candra.".

"Absolom. Nicodemus. Crule." Wolverine identified statue after statue as he made his way along the west wall. "I don' like where this is goin'."

Cyclops' recovered his senses quickly at the prospect of piecing together the unexpected puzzle scattered about them. He could browbeat himself later over his loss of control. A small cough cleared his throat as he rubbed at the back of his neck, the tension there throbbing like an infected wound.

"How do the Neo even know about the Externals?" Cyclops joined Iceman as they examined the statues. "Without Nate's files we would never have known about their affiliation. So how would the Neo know about them and why would they care?"

"They're all dead anyway. But 'Clypse wasn't one of them, was he?" Iceman noted as he glanced around. "And who are all these other statues of?" He motioned in a wide arc to the thirty two other statues lining the room.

Wolverine stopped in front of an alcove matching the one across the room, occupied by the now slagged statue of Apocalypse. A disgusted grunt accompanied the flashlight beam as it leveled on the statue's face.

"Yo, Popsicle. This face ring any bells for ya?" Wolverine called over his shoulder. The illuminated figure was tall and wide, poised with regal bearing, the sharply pointed ears and fanged grin made all the more disconcerting by the fiery hue of his polymer coated skin.

"Aw, hell. You have got to be shittin' me!" Iceman moaned as recognition sparked rather unpleasant memories. "There is no freakin' way they could know him. None!" The depth of his disbelief choked his words.

"I don't recognize the face..." Cyclops began.

"This here is our favorite fuzzy blue elf's sperm donor. Name's Azazel." Wolverine filled in the applicable details. "He's a real piece a' work."

"For all intensive purposes, the guy is Satan. There is no way these backwater, gene Nazis could know about him. None!" Iceman was getting frustrated, apprehension stiffening his spine as a tinge of fear wormed its way into his racing thoughts. "He hasn't even been on Earth for what, like, a million years. There's no way!" Maybe those instincts he had been looking for for so long finally found him. This wasn't coincidence. Somehow, it all felt like a cruel joke tailored to the Xmen and he didn't want to wait around for the punch line. The suspicious feelings inexplicably blossomed into full scale dread. He made a break for the back of the room, away from the troublesome evidence that stared unblinkingly down upon them.

* * *

Emma slowly reached out, gently pressing her fingertips to the orb. It's surface rippled at her touch, warming then gently yielding. The honeyed voices sang out in harmony, enticing her to enter, to share their knowledge, to add her story to their own. She felt a lazy warmth settle into her stress tensed muscles, the sweet voices cocooning her in languid tranquility. It felt like coming home after being away for far too long.

* * *

"Calm down, Bobby." Cyclops had to reign in his friends anxiety, like any strong, in control team leader would. "There's plenty here we don't understand. Losing your cool isn't going to help."

"Ah ha, ah ha..." Iceman's laughed sarcastically at the unintentionally bad pun. "...says the man who just recycled a defenseless statue of Apocalypse." He shot back, ice daggers hovering in the sarcasm, his dread now morphing into aggression, his tone escalating to mocking. "Maybe you should watch more CSI cause that is no way to preserve evidence, buddy."

"Yeah, well, at least I'm not turning tail and running away." Somewhere in the back of his mind, Cyclops knew he didn't mean that but the wave of irrational anger returned anew. All he felt was the need to attack.

Wolverine quirked an eyebrow as he turned. Scott and Bobby weren't messing around. Tempers were rising fast and for no good reason.

"Are you calling me a coward?" Iceman's shouted response and accompanying crepitation pulled Beast from his task once again. Bobby icing up in anger was certainly not a good thing. Beast leapt from his seat, placing himself in front of his friend, his raised hands beckoning Bobby to cede this argument before it erupted into a fight they would both regret.

"Robert, stop this. This is definitely not like you." Beast glanced back over his shoulder at the agitated Cyclops. "Either of you."

"If you have to ask then maybe I should use smaller words." Cyclops taunted, taking a stiff few steps closer to his icy teammate. He faintly heard the tiny voice in his head saying something about stopping but it was just a distant whisper he effortlessly disregarded. Wolverine was already moving to intercept his team leader.

"You girls done with yer slap fight?" Wolverine bellowed, his raspy voice echoing off the domed ceiling and into the corridors beyond. "Cause I'd be glad to end it for ya."

"Now you're calling me stupid?" The stagnant air suddenly whipped into a breeze as Iceman sucked what little lingering moisture remaining in the air into himself, growing in concordance with his rage. "Jean didn't think you were such a brain surgeon either!" That thought was buried deep, a criticism that he never intended to let see the light of day. It had no place between friends with a history like theirs but he wielded it now like a dagger and drove it deep with a biting sarcasm that no one but Emma could appreciate.

* * *

A sudden stab of rage, Scott's rage, shook Emma to her senses. She quickly retracted her hand from the orb, refocusing on Scott with a shake of her head. The voices moaned pitifully at her retreat, begging, sobbing for her to return. She hesitated, still entranced by the images that floated just inside the sphere, but slowly back away from the object. _What am I doing?_ A hint of revulsion settled in with a sneer. Scott was on the verge of a blind rage, and she was communing like a hippie with this - thing. She snapped her consciousness back into her body and rose from her seat in a long, fluid motion.

* * *

"Get out of my way, Hank!"

"I think not, Robert."

"You can try little man."

"I don' even gotta try, 'specially with you Blinky!" SNIKT!

Emma strode across the room with a snap of heels on linoleum.

"Isn't this quaint?" She glared between them with slitted eyes. "Of all the immature antics I've come to expect from the four of you, this surpasses even my expectations. And in the middle of a mission no less - how professional." The scathingly dry indictment was accentuated with a dramatic crossing of her arms and a sharply cocked hip, punctuating her displeasure.

"Shut up, Emma." Cyclops growled back at her. "And stay out of it." Emma felt the anger seething with every word.

_Oh, you think so?_ Emma's gaze settled on him with the faintest hint of disbelief arching her eyebrows. If Scott was trying to invoke her ire, he succeeded. Scott knew better than to challenge her like that especially when there was an audience present.

Her glare passed over each of them. Iceman compounded in size, vicious icy spikes erupting from the surface of his glacial form. Beast planted himself like a linebacker, a snarl starting to curl his muzzle as he flexed his clawed hands. Wolverine, claws extended, crouched low, starting to circle, the feral climbing fast to the surface. Cyclops, his face an angry red, veins starting to pop on his forehead, in his neck, crimson energy curling in wispy tendrils just behind his precariously thin visor.

This was wrong. Seriously, desperately wrong.

Emma reached out to each of their minds, her eyes growing wide at the flood of raw, primal hatred she sensed griping each of them. Scott worst of all. She sifted quickly through the surface thoughts cluttering their minds to find the source of this improbable chain reaction. The anger, while deep seated in each of them, was being tapped as a vehicle for the anger of another. Of a great many others. Each of them was channeling the fury of the Orb, the slender, silver thread that connected each of them astrally to its collective consciousness, imbedding itself deep into their subconscious minds like a starved tick come to feast. She delicately navigated through their minds to the thread's point of insertion then deftly cut the invasive link in each of them. The whole procedure was surprisingly easy, the Orb withdrawing its tendrils obediently as she severed each link, the voices calling to her still.

The four men collectively gasped for breath as they regained control of their own minds, their shoulders slumping as the artificially maintained anger abruptly drained away. They looked blankly at one another. Wolverine retracted his claws and, with a snort, paced away from group.

"What, pray tell, was that?" Beast quizzically asked, rubbing the back of his neck, his bristled hackles now itching as they relented.

Emma's face was stern as she strolled up to Cyclops side, slapping her hand across his shoulder.

"Scott, man, I'm...I'm sorry... I don't know..." Bobby began his haphazard apology as he reverted to flesh and blood, his friend cutting his words short.

"Bobby, I don't think any of us were to blame." Cyclops looked to Emma for an explanation.

_Not like any of you need an excuse to act like an ass. _She returned his look, half rolling her eyes.

"No, you were not." Emma conceded. "There is a psychically potent construct anchored to this place on the Astral Plane. It seems to have hijacked your subconscious anger."

"Hmm... interesting. But to what ends?" Beast queried.

"I thought that was obvious. It wanted you to kill each other."Emma tilted her head towards Cyclops, a smug smirk on her face. "Aren't you glad I don't listen to you?"

Cyclops could only return her expression. He knew she'd make him pay for his outburst irregardless. The less he said, the less he defended himself, the quicker her retribution would be.

"And why would it want us to do that?" Cyclops was used to being attacked but not by his friends, his family. The whole reason his reaction to the statue was so violent was not only because of what Apocalypse had done to him but the fact that the madman had used him to hurt those that meant the most to him. And he had almost done it again. He tried to dampen the mental shudder that coursed through his thoughts. Emma didn't need any more ammunition.

"Well, I'll have to check into it further to be sure but an educated guess says that you somehow triggered the psychic security system." She confidently replied.

"So why were you and Kitty unaffected by this security system?" Beast questioned as a few quick swats of his massive blue hand landed on Bobby's back, the gesture reassuring him that there was no harm done, none taken between friends.

_That is a good question._ But not one Emma was willing to riddle out right now. And definitely not while in present company. It would be much easier to sidestep the question and return on the Astral Plane later for her answers.

"Where has that precocious kitten strayed to this time, anyway?" Emma looked around the room, her gaze settling on the computer console. Shadowcat still sat in front of the computer monitor, engrossed, a self satisfied little grin glued to her face. She hadn't even registered the commotion.

Beast approached the console, leaning slowly over the monitor. He paused momentarily for her to acknowledge his presence but she did not.

"Kitty." Beast quietly called her name to avoid startling her. He didn't even receive so much as a batted eyelash. This was something he definitely was not used to - his presence usually dominated every room, every encounter, everybody. He was awfully hard to ignore.

"Kitty!" He half shouted now.

She quirked her eyebrows up and, after a long pause. "Wait... one... minute..." She directed as she typed furiously at the keyboard. "Almost..." Her grin grew. " ... GOT IT!" she exclaimed with a final flourish of the keys. She finally looked up at her team, their eyes all fixed intently on her.

"I got it. It's downloading now." The glee in her voice shrinking under their hard stares. "What?" She looked between them all, confused, and definitely feeling like she missed something.

"How could you have breached it so quickly?" The disbelief in Beast's voice stung the girl, a small hurt look crossing her grinning face as he rounded the console to confirm her statement.

"Eighteen digits, randomized sequencing, double redundant encryptions. Nothing short of the pass codes would break this system."Beast almost sounded accusatory.

"I... I don't know. It just felt right." She weakly offered in response.

* * *

Thanks for sticking with me and the story despite the long delay. Me and the muses needed to regroup. Next installment - Buried Memories/ chapter 8.2.


	9. Way Too Familiar

French>

**Cheyenne, Wyoming**

Gambit's progress was painfully slow as he fastidiously scanned for and cleared booby traps from the team's path as they ascended towards the third level doorway. Not only did he have to inspect each step and the width of each walkway but also the protective caging that encased them. Jubilee was still grappling with the scanners, finally resorting to pleading with the infernal contraptions to entice them to complete just the smallest of tasks so she wouldn't return home empty handed.

" Brutal bastards. >" Gambit mumbled under his breath as he pulled his Bo staff from his coat, with a click it telescoped to its full length. He waved his team back as he retreated a few steps himself, then smacked the tip of the staff down sharply in the middle of the walkway. He barely withdrew it in time, the scrape of metal on metal widening his eyes as two concealed blades sprung out, blindingly fast, across the walkway, scissoring at about calf height. They were obviously intended to maim, if not outright amputate, the legs of anyone unfortunate enough to trigger them. A second later, another pair of long thin blades sprung from the protective caging at waist height, their stabbing motion intended to skewer what the lower blades had left behind.

"These guys play too much Tomb Raider or what?" Jubilee's wide eyes peered around Storm.

"Storm, if da insides as bad as de outside den we gonna be here an awful long time." Gambit crouched down level with the blades as he spoke, gingerly placing his fingers on top of them. The lower blades began to glow a faint, hazy magenta as he reached for the top blades, charging them as well. He turned his back on the glowing blades as they simultaneously popped with a dull, tinny burst, the shards dropping to the deck.

"Time delay?" Storm looked at him inquisitively. She knew his kinetic charging power was growing but had no idea that he had mastered this level of control again.

Gambit's sly smirk was all the response he offered.

"Would it be faster if I take the lead and trigger the devises?" Colossus offered. "By the look of them, there is not much that can hurt me."

"Yeah, let the tank through." Jubilee heartily agreed. "I wanna make it home sometime this century."

"Oui, all des traps be old school. Ain't seen not'in' dat could even scratch you, mon ami." Gambit agreed. "Dey won' hurt you, but de rest of us be a different story. Seen triggers dat will electrify de whole walkway, gas jets dat will shoot who knows what, and, Remy's favorite, a laser grid dat could turn us all into neat, one inch square chunks. You be fine but you be carryin' de rest of us home in a doggy bag."

"Please, Gambit, continue." Storm urged him forward. "We are almost at our destination."

Gambit returned to his task. Something about these traps seemed almost familiar. He couldn't remember encountering the likes of them before yet, there they were, firmly etched into the far corners of his memory. The traps and a faint memory of Jean Luc's voice both hovered just out of his reach.

Finally reaching the door, Nightcrawler 'ported in just behind Chamber to join the team. Gambit slowly reached for the nondescript doorknob but suddenly paused. It was just a hunch.

"Colossus" He motioned for the big man with a curt bow. " After you, mon ami."

Colossus twisted the knob and pushed the door in. Two tiny clicks emanated from inside the steel slab as he felt something harmlessly tap his palm. A needle oozing a viscous amber fluid had been triggered with the turn of the knob. He took two cautious steps into the room and a carpet of slender steel spikes sprung from the floor, some squealing as they curled up on themselves as they met the impenetrable barrier of his organic steel feet. His boots were another matter entirely. He looked back over his shoulder.

"What Gambit tell you? Old school t' a fault." Gambit smiled at him in self satisfaction.

"Yeesh! This is just way too B-movie cliche' for me." Jubilee bristled. But then her face brightened as she began rifling though the backpack looking for a different scanner. "But at least they left me something to take home with us." She triumphantly pulled a small machine from the pack, inserting a paper strip into the slot at top. She dabbed it at the liquid oozing from needle, then pressed a button to retract the strip for analysis.

I sure hope there is something in there worth all this trouble. Chamber grumbled from behind.

The metal hinges creaked just before snapping as Colossus ripped the door from its frame to create a path over the still protruding spikes. He gave a quick check around the small room as the team entered.

Thankfully, the maze of traps ended at the front door. Gambit continued on point as the team made their way through the complex. The power was still on, light fixtures illuminating the hallways and the flat, musty smell of recircluated air continuously breezing through the vents. Room after room of bland, featureless living quarters, meeting rooms, storage areas and common rooms offered little to their investigation as the levels spiraled down. The only distinguishing feature was the obsessive cleanliness. Desks were organized, papers all in their proper place, beds were made with hospital precision, not a speck of dust or grime could be seen anywhere. The place looked and smelled sterile, the faint odor of ammonia greeting them on each floor.

"Yes!" Jubilee shrieked with joy as her scanners came back on line five levels down. Immediately she shrank in her boots, her eyes wide as her voice echoed off the stairwell down into the levels below. Storm passed her a dour look.

"Sorry" she whispered with a shrug of her shoulders. She knew better than that. She immediately began pressing buttons and sweeping side to side, scanning the hallway, trying to make herself useful.

"Vhat exactly are ve looking for?" Nightcrawler pondered, as he halfheartedly shuffled through papers stacked on a desk, finding nothing of interest. "If dese Shockwave Riders vere the self appointed librarians of ze Neo den vere is all ze information zhey haf collected? I haf not even seen a computer terminal."

Did anyone else notice the lack of TVs or stereos or CD's? Chamber mused as he emerged from a small room. No posters, no family portraits, no artwork, no personal effects at all. This place looks like a barracks.

"I think I actually have something" Jubilee muttered as she made her scanner sweep. The faint reading led her back to the stairwell, increasing in strength as she leaned over the edge. "Welcome to the basement, get your teleporters here."

As the team continued their search room by room, level by level, Remy grew increasingly wary. Something about this place felt uncomfortably familiar, setting his nerves on edge as he pressed forward.

The sixth and seventh levels housed medical facilities. Gambit caught sight of a steel table in the first room they encountered and quickly volunteered to guard the stairwell. Storm just patted his shoulder with a warm smile. Most of the X-Men had at least one personal demon that haunted them. One of Remy's was labs. The team continued their search without giving it a second thought.

The eighth level looked more promising. The hallway was guarded by a massive steel door, a keyed panel blinking in the wall beside it. Gambit knelt down beside the panel, inspecting it's details then smiled wide. He tapped out a long sequence of numbers as he hummed along with the tune beeped out by the keys.

"...Papa Thibodeaux" He sung under his breath as the door clicked open.

"What was that?" Jubilee looked between him and the door, her eyebrows furrowed.

Yeah, that's a soddin' good question, mate. Chamber sounded more than a touch curious.

"De security system... designed by ma pere'." Gambit smiled as he kicked the door open. "Who better t' design a security system den a master t'ief, non? Always programmed a back door int' his systems 'case any o' de family should run int' dem."

"Convenient zhat ve should find zhat particular system here." Nightcrawler stated.

"Oui." Gambit agreed, his voice trailing off as his thoughts began churning. Too convenient. The archaic traps, Jean Luc's security system, even the flat smell of DE-ionized air were poking at his brain. These things felt familiar, connected somehow, but their significance remained elusive, annoying him to the point of distraction.

"Finally, we seem to be getting somewhere." Storm remarked as she stepped through the doorway into a huge room, obviously the control center for the entire complex. Bank after bank of screens, flashing scenes from hidden cameras located all over the interior of the complex lit the space in a flickering blue gray haze. Huge maps hung suspended from ceiling cables, dotted with pips and hand drawn trails, tracking the progress of something as yet unidentified. A massive plasma screen, imbedded in the far wall, was dark except for a single blinking cursor in the upper left-hand corner. Storm and Nightcrawler took up seats at the consoles, attempting to navigate through security systems and command protocols as Colossus and Chamber rifled through papers and maps neatly stacked on the large war table at the far end of the room. Gambit disinterestedly poked around at desks and file cabinets as Jubilee switched scanners, a contented smirk on her face as she collected Beast's readings. Her scanners were registering readings off the charts.

"Storm, I'm gonna take a closer look at dat security panel in de hallway." Gambit called across the room as he headed for the door. She nodded in his directions as she returned to her task.

Gambit knelt beside the panel once again. The system itself was incredibly sophisticated, modified beyond Jean Luc's original specifications. The only thing that distinguished the devise as Jean Luc's was the distinctive onyx and ruby display, an exclusive, signature feature of his designs. The '0' key now included a fingerprint scanner and a row of three buttons were added just below the numeric keys. Each button was inscribed with a geometric symbol, symbols that shouldn't be here, symbols that were known to only few handfuls of people across the globe. The first key was imprinted with the seal of the Thieves Guild, the second with that of the Assassins Guild. The symbol on the third he did not recognize. Just below the keys a small, concave, circular seal, was stamped into the surface of the steel plate, another unknown geometric design. He ran his fingertips over the foreign glyph, its distinctive pattern somehow felt familiar though he was fairly certain he had never seen it before.

How could dere possibly be Guild business here? Gambit shifted uncomfortably as the familiar, sinking feeling grew in his gut. If the Guilds had dealings with the Neo he would have known about it down to the smallest, most insignificant contract. And there was no way the Guild seals were here accidentally. Gambit squeezed hard at the bridge of his nose, the stress of the growing conflict already pounding in his head. He should tell Storm, divulge his findings to his team. But there was no way to know what else he might find or what it could possibly mean. He could already see where this was heading, his loyalty to the Guilds and to the X-Men once again coming into conflict at a most inopportune time. He took a deep breathe, letting it out with a long sigh as he stood to return to his team.

As he entered the room, all eyes were on the huge screen as Nightcrawler called up the last video log entry. As it began to play, the time/date stamp flashed in the upper left corner; the date, four weeks ago, in the wee hours of the morning. Alarms were blaring, men and women dashing around the command center in an orderly chaos, sentries calling off status reports, squads being deployed, all to one central location; the library. The screen split into six separate images from around the base. In each one, Neo of all ages were dashing about, focused and determined, acting instead of reacting as if this were a drill that had been repeatedly practiced. Each one had a job to do and they snapped to it with little to no direction.

There... Chamber pointed to the screen. …frame six. We haven't been there yet.

Kurt isolated and enlarged the frame to display a tight angle shot of an unfamiliar room. The floor was a pristine white marble, an antique carpet covering part of its view. Library reference desks sat barely in frame. The sound of voices and footfalls echoed resoundingly across the marble in what must be a massive space. Amid the voices one rose above the rest.

"They're in the archive! I need full response in the archive, NOW!" Then other voices followed the strained command.

"That's not possible.."

"..happened to the shields..."

"How did they get in..."

The tight angle view on the doorway widened to display the entire room as Neo streamed into the space, all heading for a doorway to the right. The huge circular space was lined with encased shelves, looking very much like a lending library but with a more exotic selection of reading materials. From the angle of the camera, the shelves filled with books, scrolls, tablets, even, huge sections of ancient stone walls etched with some form of writing were visible from the floor up to approximately sixty feet high and the walls seemed to continue even higher.

"The storage tanks." Colossus interjected. "They must have converted the storage tanks we past on the way in."

"Zhat is all ze footage here. Almost everyzing else has been deleted." Nightcrawler added.

"Then we locate an entrance to those tanks." Storm returned to her attention to the computer station before her. Minutes later, a map of the complex flashed onto the screen. She scanned through levels until they were denied access by a password prompt on their current level.

"Figures. Where's Kitty when you need her?" Jubilee grumbled.

Storm rose from her seat, heading for the door catching sight of Gambit at the back of the room.

"Gambit, did you find anything?"

"Non." Gambit's reply fell smoothly from his lips even as his stomach knotted with the response.


	10. No Longer Obsolete

**Forty miles S/SE of Bridgeport, Alabama**

Angel checked on Husk's condition once more before taking to the air to confirm Rachel's assessment. From her airborne vantage point, the outline in the trees was obvious, so much so that he shook his head, cursing himself for missing the evidence when they first arrived. As he touched down to earth his mind was already racing, formulating a plan to accomplish their recon and get the hell out of there in the shortest possible amount of time.

"Rachel, Sam and I will do the aerial recon… let's get an idea of how many and what kind of support they had. Husk and Wolfsbane gather whatever you can on the scanners. We leave as soon as the aerial recon is complete."

"An' what about me, Ang?" Rogue cocked a hip and planted her hand in her best imitation of Emma, mock indignance seeping into her voice. "Want me to just stand around an' look pretty? How 'bout ah help with the aerial…"

Angel caught her gaze with a harsh glare, cutting her short mid-sentence. "Back up Husk and Wolfsbane." He held her gaze a moment longer than necessary before turning to face the rest of his team. "I want everyone to assume the worst. We are out of here in under ten minutes." He barked out the order, turned to plant a small kiss across Paige's lips before taking to the air, Rachel and Sam following in close formation.

Rachel immediately established a telepathic link between herself, Sam and Angel as they left the forest floor behind. Three of us online, boss.

Thanks, Rach. Sam, take the perimeter, up to a mile out. Rachel, north and west, I'll cover south and east. And I'm not kidding about the ten minute time limit. The tension in his thoughts was a palpable thing that stiffened both Rachel and Sam's shoulders, his sense of urgency loud and clear in their minds.

The three veered off towards their assigned directions. Rachel and Angel skimmed the tree line methodically then circled higher in a well practiced spiral search pattern. Sam quickly identified a poorly maintained access road to the northwest that seemed to show signs of recent vehicle activity but whose was anyone's guess.

Angel, I've got clear signs of at least five individual Sentinels. Rachel reported, a hint of something more preventing the thought from sounding final.

I've got at least seven, all seem to have landed from a northeast trajectory. Angel added his report, pausing long enough to give Rachel the opportunity to complete her last thought. Rach, what is it?

Rachel was deep in thought, instinct telling her that the results of her telepathic scan on the bluff had everything to do with the now apparent Sentinel attack. But Sentinels were, as a rule, immune to telepathic disciplines - no sentience, no consciousness - machines were simply immune to mind altering powers. But somehow this was different. She carefully wrapped her psychic shields around herself like a second skin, peeling them back in layers, just enough to telepathically scan the area once more, prepared to defend her mind against the overwhelming power she encountered the first time. And once again, the raw fury of the telepathic signature she encountered slammed up against her shields like a concussive force, rocking her back, breaking her concentration leaving her free falling from sky.

* * *

Husk and Wolfbane moved with renewed determination. Husk was realigning the scanner repeatedly, trying to find a frequency she could actually get a clear reading on. The scanner simply wasn't powerful enough to process the readings it was taking, finally freezing up solid as the processor was overwhelmed by the sheer volume of information.

"That's it, I'm done. This thing seized up." The annoyance in Husk's voice punctuated by a sigh.

"I have clear readings on the 'porter." Wolfsbane announced from the other side of the Sentinel made clearing. Rogue and Husk quickly joined her as she started back towards the cave, following the scanners lead. Before she cleared the tree line, Wolfsbane once again heeded the nagging of her instincts, gruffly tossing the scanner in Husk's direction as she assumed her feral form, leaping off into forest with a snarl.

"Wolfsbane, what is it?" Rogue called after her to no avail. She looked back to Husk as she fumbled with the scanner then back into the trees after Wolfsbane who had already disappeared silently into the shadows. "Stay close, girl!" She called aimlessly into the forest, glancing helplessly back to Husk, reluctant to leave her side as per her promise to Angel.

* * *

In those few seconds of free fall, Rachel was inundated with images. Struggle as she might, she couldn't slow the download of psychic information crashing through her mind: images of Neo rushing to defend the entrance of the cave; the figures from the briefing, Recoil's 'Old Ones', joining their fight, taking over the nearly lost battle, their mutant powers pushing back squad after squad of Sentinels with frightening ease ; then, through someone else's senses, she felt power course through her veins, a swirling blackness reaching out from deep within her, enveloping the Neo and her teammates and sucking them in, and through, depositing them far away from the fight; a moment of absolute calm as the remaining Sentinels closed ranks around her, a moment to telepathically scan the surrounding countryside to assure nothing human was within range, then a blinding flash of barely contained raw psychic power unleashed, the sheer force of it scrambling then fusing circuitry and wiring as effectively as a nuclear blast, felling everything in it's path.

A smile of contented satisfaction crept across Rachel's face as she plummeted, Sam scooping her out of the air just seconds after her telekinesis failed her. Sam called her name over and over, knowing full well his blasting would drown out the sound but there was little else he could do. One of the most powerful mutants among them and she lay limp in his arms, and he couldn't help but notice how light she felt. Angel pulled up along side him, pointing him to the clearing at the mouth of the cave, Rachel's telepathic link having been severed just before she dropped like a rock from the sky. And still, she had the most pleasant expression on her face.

They tried to assess her condition once on the ground but it was quickly apparent there was little they could do here. Angel passed a concerned look to Sam then tapped his com. "Rogue…" He was cut off by a loud crackle of static. Sam repeated the motion and he too was interrupted by the hiss over his com.

"I'll get the girls. We are out of here." Angel was up and heading for the treeline as he spoke. "Get her under cover until we get back." He turned and pointed for the shadowed mouth of the cave before breaking into a full run.

"Angel…" Sam called after him but his determined leader just disappeared into the trees. He lifted Rachel and found a sheltered niche with a full view of the clearing to settle into. He sunk to his knees, cradling her head, brushing a stray lock of fiery red hair from her cheek. "Come on, Rach… we're gonna need ya." His eyes wandered aimlessly over the treeline then to the sides of the cave, up to the natural curve of the roof and the destroyed guns imbedded there. "I got a bad feeling about this whole thing."

Angel caught sight of Rogue and Husk a few yards ahead. The stern look on his face immediately put both women on edge.

"Where's Wolfsbane?" He impatiently looked around then expectantly back to Rogue.

"She musta heard something. She bolted off just after you left." Rogue smacked at her com. "Wolfsbane…" The squeal of feedback greeted her.

Husk immediately tapped at her com, feedback eminating from the tiny device in an escalating squeal. "They're being jammed." Husk spit out as she rushed to stuff the scanner into her backpack then swinging it over her shoulder.

"Jammed?" Angel questioned reflexively as the implication of her hurried statement sunk in.

"Jammed by wh…" Rogue never got the chance to finished her question. A loud crack resounded off the trees was followed a mere second later by a ball of auburn fur crashing through the underbrush and slamming head on into her with enough force to rock her back, almost off her feet. The acrid stench of burnt fur lingered heavy in the air as the furry projectile dropped to the ground with a thud. The singed ball of hair reverted back to the default human form of Wolfsbane, in a twisted, motionless heap at Rogue's feet.

"Rahne! Talk to me girl." Rogue tried to gingerly untangle the twisted limbs, the wolf girl's uniform still smouldering on her chest. As she brought the broken form to rest in the leaf litter, wetness trickling across her wrist drew her attention to the bright crimson blood seeping from her teammate's ear. "Oh god… no." The swell of fear that washed over her was almost immediately transformed into the more familiar sting of rage. Rogue whipped her head around in the direction of the attack, looking for a target to charge.

"Rogue! Grab her! Move!" Angel screamed the order as he scooped Husk off her feet and took to the air, dodging through the trees in a flash of silent white wings. He didn't need to see Rahne's attacker to know that they needed to regroup and get a clear line of sight.

Rogue's brow creased as she looked to Angel then back into the forest with a sneer. As she gathered Rahne's limp body into her arms, a familiar mechanical sound echoed off the trees.

"HALT MUTANT."

A few yards into the mottled forest shadows a shimmer of light materialized into the familiar form of a prime Sentinel, the usually metallic armor of its carapace shimmering in the sun dappled light like a heat mirage in distance. Before its form solidified, it was raising a hand in a familiar gesture.

"SURRENDER OR BE NEUTRALIZED."

"Charming, as usual." Rogue grumbled under her breath, her hands curling into fists even as she held her wounded friend. The urge to rip the mechanical menace apart, circuit by circuit, bolt by bolt, was overwhelming but the bubble of blood still trickling from Rahne's ear was a powerful, grounding reminder. She turned with a yell of pure frustration and streaked for the clearing. A crackle of energy and an explosion of splinters followed quickly behind her.

Rogue joined her teammates just inside the cave entrance. A quick assessment explained Angel's surly demeanor. Rachel and Rahne were both out of commission, their coms were being jammed, and most likely, there were Sentinels en route thanks to the sentry Rahne flushed out of the woods. The Xmen walking into a trap - Rogue rolled her eyes wide with the thought - why did it always seem to work out that way?

"You guys make a break for it, Angel. I'll cover you." Rogue nearly commanded Angel as she gently handed the wounded Rahne to Paige, careful to cradle her neck as best she could.

"Back off, Rogue. Not all of us are bulletproof." Angel reasserted his role as leader with a quiet but stern command. "Rahne is in bad shape and we don't know what happened to Rachel. The jet is probably compromised too. We need to get out of here and warn the others."

"No problem boss." Rogue took to the air without a glance back. The Sentinel emerged from the treeline, right into a roundhouse left fist that sent it sailing into the air, crashing through the trees. Its self diagnostic program came online before it even slammed into the massive pine trunk, imbedding it several inches into the gnarled wood. Rogue turned to flash a smug little grin to her team when three Sentinels appeared overhead, their retrorockets firing as they lowered themselves to the ground. The prime Sentinel and it's nearly human size was nothing compared to the massive, twenty foot high Mark IV's that joined the battle.

Rogue mouthed a few less than lady like curses to herself as the behemoths descended. A quick charge at the leg of one set it off balance and the massive robot fell into the trees with the force of an earthquake.

"I've never fought these before." Paige eyed the giant robots with trepidation.

"Mark IV's.. these things are old school. Obsolete. I don't understand… these things were ancient when I was in school, I only fought them in the Danger Room." Sam looked to Angel, the senior team leader, the man with the knowledge and experience, for some reassurance.

"They can't be Mark IV's… they were all scrapped." Angel mumbled as the memories of these, the most vicious of the mechanical mutant hunters, raced through his head. He shook his head hard, needing to think and fast. If these were Mark IV's they were literally fighting for their lives. He looked back to Paige, his stomach twisting into a sick knot. "Paige, get us inside this base, find a terminal, find a way. Fast."

"What about you?" Paige knew the answer to her question but hoping only that the love of her life would reassure her he'd make it through this in one piece. He kissed her once, squeezing her hand as he turned to her brother.

"Sam, just keep moving. Don't let them get a bead on you. Use them against each other. They used to be weak at the joints and their scanners and sensors were fairly easy to disable. Most of their weapons were in their hands but we have no clue what kind of upgrades these things have." Angel's face was a mask of steely determination as he turned to face the monstrosities closing fast on their location. "Ready?"

"Ready as I'll ever be." Sam bellowed over a deafening CLANG as Rogue's fist connected with the head of one of the robots. Sam lowered Rachel gently to the ground and took his place by Angel's side. With a nod, they were both off.

* * *

The fight was actually going well. At first. Angel was impressed with how easily the three of them had blinded and disabled the triad of mutant hunters. But his enthusiasm was quickly squashed as another three touched down just as the last Sentinel fell. Enhanced self repair programs were the most obvious among these Sentinels upgrades. No sooner did the next squad land that the first of the three they felled started pushing to its feet. These may have been Mark IV shells but their programming seemed to be far more advanced.

Rogue charged headlong into the lead robot, swinging hard at the concealed access panel she knew was on its chest, intent on ripping its hardwired guts out of its shell one cable at a time. She dented it with a crushing blow before the thing batted her away like an insect.

Sam put some distance between himself and the Sentinels then rounded back at full speed slamming into the back of one of them, nearly knocking it face first into the ground. Unfortunately, it held its footing and righted itself, its dented carapace already starting to pop back into place.

Angel didn't have nearly the brute power of either Rogue or Sam at full blast but he did have the agility and speed to hit fast. With a flash of his blade, he soared up over the back of the metal head and into its face, sliding his steel into the gap between the metal eye and its socket then, with a twist, severing half its circuitry. The sensor eye went dark as he dodged away from a swing of its metal hand. But before he even could assess their situation, the eye was starting to flicker back to life. They were nothing more than gnats to these things. The last two disabled Sentinels were already on their feet and mostly functional again. And worse, they were anticipating their moves; adaptive software was definitely an upgrade. Just as he was about to signal the retreat, his felt the rush of air from behind but never felt the impact; his world went black as he plummeted from the sky, the last thing in his vision a flash of red and purple armor.


End file.
